Daddy Does Diapers

The Ghost of Harper Jo(ad)

2010-11-22T13:04:00.001-08:00

This is the drawing that Harper made of a ghost. Which she then held behind her as she ran screaming around the house trying to get away from it. I couldn't stop thinking, "Just drop it already."

Easter 2010 - a slideshow

2010-04-06T16:00:00.001-07:00

Saturday in the Park

2010-03-23T15:03:00.000-07:00

It's not unusual for us to head out to Griffith Park on a sunny Saturday afternoon. We love the train ride and the ponies. Harper has been on the bigger horses that actually trot a little bit, but this time she decided to go on the slow ride with Marley. What a great big sister!

Check out the below pics and vids from this past weekend's excursion...

Harper's Prayer

2010-01-20T21:18:00.000-08:00

Dear God,

Thank you for my unicorn, and for mommy, and daddy, and marley man. I hope you will help mommy feel better, because she had to go to the...

Where did you go today?

To the doctor.

She had to go to the doctor. So please help make her better because she's really sick. And help us to eat all of our dinner, and to stay sitted at the table, and to listen to mommy and daddy so we behave.

Amen.

Watch them break down, gDiapers earth-friendly diapers

2009-12-25T00:35:00.001-08:00

I am thinking of trying these with Marley Man... since we're going broke on diapers, and he's not showing any interest in learning to use the "potty". (Well, except for the fact that he loves sitting on his potty - fully dressed - and having someone read "Potty Train" to him. It's his new favorite book.

Automated Parenting

2009-11-26T08:32:00.000-08:00

Throughout the years technology has promised so many amazing advances (I'm still waiting for my jet pack, by the way). But something I think the tech nerds are woefully behind on is the robotic childcare provider, or RoboMom.

From Fritz Lang's Metropolis right on down to Dollhouse, we've seen men making machines to replace women in the bedroom. But in typical male short term goal orientation, there is never any thought about what comes post-coitus. You know, kids.

One of the few examples of advanced parenting is Rosie from the Jetsons. But again, she was a maid who also had to occasionally pull double duty while Jane was getting her galactic hair did and George was in hot water with Mr. Spacely.

Ironically, perhaps the best robotic babysitter was the Cyberdyne Systems Model 101. The Terminator. In T2, the Terminator protected John Conner while simultaneously teaching and learning important lessons about the value of human life, how to use '90s teen slang, and why humans cry. Throw in a motorcycle ride through the LA river and some gun safety lessons and you've got the perfect candidate for the Big Brother program.

So maybe we can try to throw some of the stimulation money at tech research for creating caring, loving, nurturing terminators. Until then, I'll just have to rely on the same old stand by we've been using since the 1950's. Television.

American Girl Dolls: Suck It Xavier Roberts!

2009-07-14T21:47:00.000-07:00

Today is McCall's birthday (happy birthday, baby!) so we went to the Grove/Farmer's Market to do a bit of shopping and get some things to prepare a birthday fondue dinner at home. While we were there we decided to finally give in to the tractor beam-like pull of the American Doll Store.

I really didn't want to go in, and we don't have any intention of actually purchasing one of these things for Harper (at least I don't THINK we do). But we walk past it all the time and people fly from all over just to go to this store. Not going kind of felt like living in New York City and not visiting the Statue of Liberty. It just felt unpatriotic. Like by not going we were letting the terrorists win.

So in we go and the first thing you think is, my goodness this is a lot of dolls. I mean when I was a kid there was never any GI Joe store, no Transformers store, no Masters of the Universe store, and no Star Wars store! So to walk in and see an entire store dedicated to only this single brand of doll is a bit overwhelming. And the first floor isn't even where it's at. That's right. The store is two levels and the second floor is about twice as big as the first. It's like Harrods for dolls.

But let's get down to the real nitty gritty. American Girl Dolls are ridiculously expensive dolls for which you purchase ridiculously expensive accessories. Want a doll? A base model is $95. Packages go for up to $118.

It all seemed a bit silly to me but the funniest thing was the historical dolls. Go upstairs and you're treated to a sort of museum of American history. With dolls!

Meet Felicity, a young girl in 1774 who believes in colonial freedom. Wow, these are forward thinking dolls. Meet Amy, she fights for gay marriage. Yeah Amy!

Then we come to the ethnic dolls. You have to have minority themed dolls, right? Otherwise your company might seem racist. So of course American Girl features Addy, the black doll who...wait for it...escapes from slavery!

I was also very happy to find Kaya, the Native American doll. You know for all those little girls from the reservations I see at the Grove all the time. Want Kaya's tepee? A steal at $70.

Are you an Asian-American girl looking for an American Girl doll to reflect your culture and experience? We've got Ivy Ling for you. The Chinese doll. But I'm Korean, you say. Up yours! But I'm Japanese, you say. Shove it! But I'm... Look we have one doll to cover an entire hemisphere so take the NorCal, '70s Chinese girl or go find Laotian Barbie. We dare you.

Once you select your doll, you can have a photo session with it to remind you that you bought a doll. I can't even take the time to go into the cafe with $20 tea servings and little high chairs for the dolls. Or the salon where your American Girl doll can have her hair did (if you don't mind the two hour wait). Or even the infirmary where employees wear doctor's jackets and stethoscopes (for listening to what, exactly?) and your doll can have that leg the dog gnawed off replaced.

Amazing? Yes. Excessive? Absolutely. Delightfully tacky yet offensive given the current state of the economy? Probably. But I see a lot of red shopping bags wandering around the Grove so somebody somewhere is making a boatload, and the store looked like it must employ at least 100 people so maybe it's not all bad.

However, I do wonder about the little girls who have these dolls, but maybe even more I wonder about the little girls who don't. Are American Dolls the status marker that Cabbage Patch dolls were when I was their age? I can't imagine otherwise. And it makes me sad that Harper Jo may one day be excluded because she doesn't have one. And it makes me sad to think that I may one day buy her one so she won't be.

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Was playing: The Doors - Light My Fire
via FoxyTunes

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Now playing: LTJ Bukem - Inner Guidance
via FoxyTunes

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Now playing: LTJ Bukem - Inner Guidance
via FoxyTunes

Photogenic HJ

2009-07-13T19:05:00.000-07:00

Harper, who won't sit still for family portraits, has suddenly started requesting that I take her picture posed with her stuffed animals. She usually labels the players involved, as well. As in, "I'm the mommy and this (this being a stuffed monkey) is the baby".

Harper, too fast for the camera...

And Harper as "Mommy" with her stuffed animals...

In this one, the monkey has a baby, too. The stuffed dog. Harper knows nothing about genetics.

What kills me is the perfect smile in each. And she would have sat for five minutes until I took these pics!

PS - Check out this fun little add on from Firefox. It tells you what I was listening to when I started this blog (like an hour ago), and below that, what I'm listening to right this second! Look for it in upcoming blogs. Or don't!

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Was playing: The Prodigy - Mindfields
via FoxyTunes

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Now playing: R.E.M. - You Are The Everything
via FoxyTunes

Classy Brunch

2009-07-12T23:29:00.001-07:00

My mother is in town for my birthday. (Oh, and this is McCall speaking.... Er, well it's me typing really. But let's move on, shall we? My/McCall's mom is in LA and we all (Kyle, Myself, Moon and Harper Jo) decided to have a nice Sunday brunch at Elements Kitchen in Pasadena... Where Moon, who goes by Lorena there, works. (are you with me, or am I blogging too late?)

Anyhow, Kyle ended up staying home with a napping Marley Man. (I thnk he was secretly very thankful to have the time "off" - brunch isn't really a Kyle-kind-of-thing anyhoo.) So, it's me, my mom, Moon/Lorena, & Harper Jo. A girl's bruncheon, right?

Yeah, well, there is clearly a darn good reason why fancy brunch places don't have a kids menu... Or Crayons. Within about 2.3 minutes of her syrup laden (bad idea, both for the sticky factor and the inevitable, impending sugar rush/crash) breakfast arriving infront of her, Harper Jo had managed to make finger puppets out of the fresh raspberries and get bright red berry juice all over my mom's white leotard! (Why my 65 year old mother still wears white leotards and blue jeans ala the late-great Farrah, is best saved for another blog. And the fact that I, the supposed "responsible parent", grabbed for my iPhone, to take a picture, in a moment I shouldve been grabbing for napkins... Well that's a lecture you can feel free to give me in the comments section, below.

In the meantime, here's the photo I got:

-- PS My mom paid, but Moon and I left an extra $10 to the tip - that table (and the whole floor under/around it) was a complete disaster!

Marley the Patient

2009-06-29T23:22:00.000-07:00

Last week Marley got his one year vaccinations. Not surprisingly he quickly spiked a fever and we had to take him in for a quick check out and some lab work.

He had to wear a hospital gown, and though McCall and I were concerned while we waited for the doctor, Marley seemed fairly relaxed...

My first try at making a music video...

2009-06-25T23:28:00.000-07:00

AMAZING, right?
Here's a little secret: It took me all of about 13 minutes from start to finish. And that includes the upload time to YouTube and Facebook! (And this blog.)

If you want to put an end to YOUR boring old slideshows - make awesome music videos from your photos instead! Just CLICK HERE and try it out. Animoto has a super sweet interface, it's extremely easy to use/intuitive.

Oh, I almost forgot.. if you indeed love it as much as I do, you can buy unlimited monthly access and get a whopping $5 off by using this referral code: xyktmpec (Seriously, use the code. I'll get 3 months free. Then you can do the same with one of your pals.)

Well Educated

2009-06-25T00:31:00.001-07:00

Goodbye Gramps, originally uploaded by McKyle.

I ain't scared of no lil' doggy!

2009-06-24T18:58:00.001-07:00

Marley, like his sister before him, is intriuged by very loud, small dogs.

See Harper Jo's similar reaction here:

-- Post From My iPhone

Happy Pancakes

2009-06-19T15:17:00.000-07:00

A long time ago we started feeding Harper Jo frozen mini pancakes (yes, she actually eats some of them frozen, she calls them "chili pancakes"). At first she just ate them plain, then somewhere along the line McCall started decorating them with smiley faces made out of frosting. So now almost every morning Harper wakes up and asks for happy pancakes.

To keep things interesting we have started to mix it up a bit. We got some larger sized pancakes and added more colors of frosting. So below are some pics from earlier in the week. Harper asked for a flower instead of smiley faces.

McCall and I did this one together, the red gloop on the leaf is a ladybug, courtesy of McCall.

It's possible Harper was more excited about her Elmo plate than the masterpiece in frosting we presented her with.

Fiesta Amarillo

2009-05-31T15:02:00.000-07:00

That means "Yellow Party" for all you gringos out there. It's exactly what it sounds like and it's exactly what we just had on Saturday to celebrate Marley's first and Harper's third birthdays.

For regular readers of this blog (read: McCall), it is well known that yellow is Harper Jo's favorite color. So her request was to have a yellow party. We asked Marley if he was okay with a yellow party and he didn't object. So we turned our front yard into a yellow paradise. Balloons, streamers, banners, chairs, a yellow pinata, even yellow foods (bananas, pineapples, mac and cheese, corn dogs), and everyone wore yellow!

I don't know if I can adequately describe the scene, so see the photos below:

2009-05-30T03:29:00.000-07:00

I just can't get over just how precious the interaction I caught in this series of images is...
My mom, Susan, (who Harper calls "MaMoo") was here in LA for a quick visit to celebrate 3 birthdays --- Marley: May 21st; her own: May 25th; and Harper Jo: May 29th.

Hopefully, Kyle will write some sort of clever recap regarding our big backyard birthday bash. It was really quite the event! (And quite YELLOW!)

Gridiron Girl

2009-05-25T16:44:00.000-07:00

I asked Harper if she would like to play football and she said yes. So I threw the ball gently to her and it bounced off her head.

"Hey!" she exclaimed unhappily.

"That's football," I said.

"NO!" she replied emphatically, "That's headball."

Hard to argue with that logic.

Marley Can Walk!

2009-05-04T21:01:00.000-07:00

Marley has started experimenting with becoming a full fledged biped! He recently started taking tentative steps and while hanging on to someone's hand could walk pretty well. But over the weekend he really came into his own as a semi-ambulant, stumbling like a sailor on shore leave.

Here to prove his accomplishments are photos of Marley in action (disclaimer: standing may be considered action).

While the photographic evidence leaves much to the imagination, I can assure you Marley is able to cross our living room with little effort. And he loves it.

Marley smiles and squeals with glee when he walks. He's so proud of himself. Almost as proud as we are.

“YELLOW!!! I AM YELLOW!”

2009-04-12T00:20:00.000-07:00

If you read this blog, or know Harper Jo personally, you are probably familiar with the fact that she absolutely adores Yellow. The color. The word. The IDEA of Yellow.
We find this fact so endearing that we tend to cater to it a bit. For example, (insert photo) for Valentine’s Day, we gave her a yellow tutu and leotard (and wings). Because she had inquired upon entering her very first ballet/tap class “only pink and black mommy?” And when the teacher asked, “What color butterfly are you? Let me see you open those pretty butterfly wings.” (This was during their caterpillar to butterfly dance, obviously.) Harper gleefully screamed out – over the peaceful classical music - “YELLOW!!! I AM YELLOW!” Alas, teacher had no yellow ‘flying arms’ in her cardboard box of wings. Harper finally found some cool rainbow, semi-translucent, fairy wings that sufficed. But since Feb 14th, it’s pretty much only been her yellow tutu/leotard/wings for dancing.

Another typical example? Insistence on Yellow Nail Polish - she balked at my offerings-on-hand: a full rainbow of reds, plums, pinks, burgundies and browns.

The latest presentation of Harper’s Yellow passion has been Flowers. Our contribution to her zeal? Last weekend, we bought home a “flat”, full of each yellow flower species (that would thrive in full sunlight) and together, we planted a small garden of yellows around our purple lavender plant/bush. Thanks to Dora or the Wonder Pets or some other children’s tv gem, Harper knows very well (and regularly recites/occasionally sings) the “Four Things We All Need To Live/Grow” – (1) Sunlight; (2) Water; (3) Food; and (4) Love. (Thanks PBS!!! You are raising a great kid.)

With these factors in mind, twice a day we now have to walk around our garden (once on our walk to school, and once upon arriving home) and give Love for the flowers to grow. Harper does this by way of a little prayer, usually. This morning’s was as insightful and endearing as typically they are: “Thank you for the flowers, and Mommy, and Marley and Daddy, and, and, um, thank you for everything I hope for. Amen”

Harper and Costello

2009-04-11T13:41:00.000-07:00

The other day the family was trying to get ready for a trip to our favorite breakfast spot, Piper's. Harper came into the dining room without a shirt on which prompted the following dialogue...

Kyle: Where's your t-shirt?

Harper: Huh?

Kyle: Where's your t-shirt?

Harper: (Pause) You're my teacher!

Kyle: Not teacher, your t-shirt.

Harper: I don't have a teacher.

Kyle: Not a teacher! T-shirt, T-SHIRT! You need a shirt.

Harper: Where is it?

Kyle: That's what I'm asking YOU!!!

It was in that moment that I realized that my daughter had unwittingly roped me into our very own Who's on First? routine and somehow she was playing the part of the straight man.

I can't tell if that says more about me or her.

Daffodil Letdown

2009-04-06T18:31:00.000-07:00

Harper's favorite color is yellow. In fact, Harper may be living proof that personal preference can be taught at a very young age. See, McCall used to have this car, and by car I mean steel deathtrap on wheels. Anyway, it was a 1970 VW Fastback and it was yellow. We gave the car to her younger brother before Harper was born but McCall has always loved yellow cars and loves pointing them out.

As Harper was learning colors, it seemed to me that McCall gave a little special preference to yellow. So it's no surprise that Harper has never wavered on the question, "What is your favorite color?" It has always been an enthusiastic reply, "Yellow!"

So we like to point out yellow things for Harper: there's a yellow car, yellow sign, yellow shirt, whatever. Recently, McCall was hunting online and found a story about a woman in the San Bernardino mountains who has a giant daffodil garden that is open to the public to come and see. It is advertised as sea of yellow. In fact here's the story (edited for length) McCall read to us as we drove out towards the mountains yesterday:

THE DAFFODIL PRINCIPLE

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say. "Mother, you must come see the daffodils before they are over." I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead. Going and coming took most of a day -- and I honestly did not have a free day until the following week.

"I will come next Tuesday," I promised, a little reluctantly, on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and so I drove the length of Route 91, continued on I-215, and finally turned onto Route 18 and began to drive up the mountain highway. The road becomes narrow and winding toward the top of the mountain. As I executed the hazardous turns at a snail's pace, I was praying to reach the turnoff at Blue Jay that would signify I had arrived.

When I finally walked into Carolyn's house and hugged and greeted my grandchildren. I said, "Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in the clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these darling children that I want to see bad enough to drive another inch!"

My daughter smiled calmly, "We drive in this all the time, Mother."

"Well, you won't get me back on the road until it clears—and then I'm heading for home!" I assured her.

"I was hoping you'd take me over to the garage to pick up my car. The mechanic just called, and they've finished repairing the engine," she answered.

"How far will we have to drive?" I asked cautiously.

"Just a few blocks," Carolyn said cheerfully. So we buckled up the children and went out to my car. "I'll drive," Carolyn offered. "I'm used to this."

We got into the car, and she began driving. In a few minutes I was aware that we were back on the Rim-of-the-World road heading over the top of the mountain.

"Where are we going?" I exclaimed, distressed to be back on the mountain road in the fog. "This isn't the way to the garage!"

"We're going to my garage the long way," Carolyn smiled, "by way of the daffodils."

"Carolyn," I said sternly, trying to sound as if I were still the mother and in charge of the situation, "please turn around. There is nothing in the world that I want to see enough to drive on this road in this weather."

"It's all right, Mother," she replied with a knowing grin. "I know what I'm doing. I promise, you will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience."

After about twenty minutes we turned onto a small gravel road that branched down into an oak-filled hollow on the side of the mountain. We parked in a small parking lot adjoining a little stone church.

On the far side of the church I saw a pine-needle-covered path, with towering evergreens and manzanita bushes and an inconspicuous, hand-lettered sign "Daffodil Garden."

We each took a child's hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path as it wound through the trees. The mountain sloped away from the side of the path in irregular dips, folds, and valleys, like a deeply creased skirt. Live oaks, mountain laurel, shrubs, and bushes clustered in the folds, and in the gray, drizzling air, the green foliage looked dark and monochromatic. I shivered.

Then we turned a corner of the path, and I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight, unexpectedly and completely splendid. It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it down over the mountain peak and slopes where it had run into every crevice and over every rise. Even in the mist-filled air, the mountainside was radiant, clothed in massive drifts and waterfalls of daffodils.

The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, saffron, and butter yellow. Each different-colored variety (I learned later that there were more than thirty-five varieties of daffodils in the vast display) was planted as a group so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue.

In the center of this incredible and dazzling display of gold, a great cascade of purple grape hyacinth flowed down like a waterfall of blossoms framed in its own rock-lined basin, weaving through the brilliant daffodils.

The effect was spectacular. It did not matter that the sun was not shining. The brilliance of the daffodils was like the glow of the brightest sunlit day. Words, wonderful as they are, simply cannot describe the incredible beauty of that flower-bedecked mountain top.

Five acres of flowers! (This too I discovered later when some of my questions were answered.)

"But who has done this?" I asked Carolyn.

"It's just one woman," Carolyn answered. "She lives on the property. That's her home. " Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house that looked small and modest in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house, my mind buzzing with questions. On the patio we saw a poster. "Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking" was the headline. The first answer was a simple one. "50,000 bulbs," it read. The second answer was, "One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and very little brain." The third answer was, "Began in 1958."

There it was. The Daffodil Principle. For me that moment was a life-changing experience. I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than thirty-five years before, had begun -- one bulb at a time -- to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountain-top.

One bulb at a time. There was no other way to do it. One bulb at a time. No shortcuts -- simply loving the slow process of planting. Loving the work as it unfolded. Loving an achievement that grew so slowly and that bloomed for only three weeks of each year. Still, just planting one bulb at a time, year after year, had changed the world.

This unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. She had created something of ineffable magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration: learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time -- often just one baby-step at a time -- learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world.

Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards

As McCall read our anticipation grew. She showed us pictures she'd printed out of this magnificent garden.

Then McCall got quiet, "Oh, wait."

What?

She read on...

She has been through 2 fires in the last 4 years and has lost many of the daffodils.
Perhaps, only if you want to, you can send her $5 in the mail so she can buy a few new bulbs.

This is what I said in my head: "How could you have possibly missed that??? It's at the bottom of the page you're reading right now. THIS is the story that convinced you to pack us all in the car drive an hour and a half and look at some burned flowers!?!? And you didn't bother to actually finish reading it?"

Out loud I said, "Hm."

What was the point? We had already built it up for Harper, our day was planned around this trip, there was nothing to be done but forge ahead. Besides, it's not about the destination, it's about the journey, right? Right?

We arrived at the same church mentioned above. We parked in front of a pair of port-a-potties and followed the crowd to the garden entrance. As we wondered down the dirt path I kept wondering how many flowers was "many". The story said that she'd lost "many" of the daffodils. What does that mean?

We rounded a bend, and I got my answer. "Many" meant "nearly all". There were a few patches of yellow here and there, but for the most part, the mountain side was dirt and scrub brush. There was some detectable fire damage and the home on the grounds looked brand new. We later found that Bauers, the couple that own the land and keep the garden, had lost their home in on of the fires as well.

It was, to say the least, a staggering disappointment. I tried to imagine what it must have looked like. It was difficult to know how far they may have once stretched. We followed the path that winds through the garden stopping every now and then to look at the few remainders. Eventually we came to a bench. It was obvious that this bench was the last stop on the path. Most likely it was placed to maximize the effect of the best view. I marveled at how tremendous it must have appeared in years gone by. But for us, it was simply looking out over the San Bernardino valley.

Don't get me wrong. The view was spectacular. San Bernardino is beautiful and the views from the mountain are breathtaking, but it wasn't a view of the valley we had come all this way to see. And so we departed, drove down the mountain a way and had a picnic lunch under a tree on the side of the mountain before making the return trip to Los Angeles.

Mrs. Bauer started planting the daffodils in 1958. This week, Easter Sunday, the daffodil garden will close forever. I am glad to have seen it, though it feels like seeing MJ playing for the Wizards. And I am thankful that there are people like the Bauers who choose to create beauty privately and share it publicly.

For a complete history of the daffodils click here. It's a transcript of a powerpoint presentation by Dale and Gene Bauer themselves.

Our LITTLEST Theologian...

2009-03-27T23:48:00.000-07:00

...or maybe he just read Daddy's latest blog and wants to keep on pace with his big sister.

Our Little Theologian

2009-03-26T10:06:00.000-07:00

With Easter fast approaching, we decided to teach Harper Jo about the meaning behind the holiday. We want her to have a grounded biblical knowledge of painted eggs, and chocolate bunnies. We have a sticker book that McCall purchased and as soon as I'm done with it, and understand who all the characters are, I'm going to tell Harper all about it. (Not the story of Easter, I'm going to tell her about the sticker book Mommy got me and how cool it was. Seriously folks, I'm here all week.)

Now I have some personal hang ups about telling a two year old a story that is basically the execution of an innocent man who, oh yeah, also happens to be God! First of all, it probably won't instill her with a lot of faith in our justice system (regardless of the fact that the story happened 2,000 years ago under the Roman empire). Secondly, despite the happy ending, it's also primarily a story about betrayal, brutality, and death. I'm beginning to wonder if the story of Easter is inappropriate for children. Maybe, we'll just celebrate Christmas again.

Despite all my concerns I've still showed her the sticker book, spending lots of time on donkey riding and palm branches and kind of rushing through plotting to kill Jesus.

So last night Harper and I were in her room with her new Fisher-Price Discovery Channel View-Master Learning Projector (View-Masters have come a LONG way since 1983!) learning about farm animals. Lo and behold there was a slide of a donkey. I asked Harper, "Who rode on a donkey?" There was a brief pause and then she said, "Jesus!" And then, and this is what blew me away, she added, "In Darusalem!" "That's right," I said, "in Jerusalem."

So the sticker book is an early success. I just hope that when Easter rolls around and we ask, "What do people shout on Easter?" She'll say, "He is risen!" and not "Crucify!"

She's a Very Chased Girl

2009-03-21T08:48:00.000-07:00

Harper has developed a new game she loves to play. Each day after we pick her up from preschool we usually spend some time in the front yard playing. This helps to wear her out a bit and we all get to enjoy the blue sky and exhaust from the rush hour traffic.

Recently, Harper has taken to running around in the yard yelling, "Try to catch me, try to catch me!" She is not satisfied until one of us starts chasing her. And it doesn't matter what game we might actually be playing at the time. We might be drawing with sidewalk chalk, or playing with Nerf rockets, or pushing Marley in the baby swing. Whatever it is, it quickly dissolves into, "Try to catch me, try to catch me!"

Sometimes we play outside with Harper's neighbor friend, Sofia. But Try to Catch Me is an exclusively one way game. Harper has little to no interest in chasing anybody else. In fact it's pretty funny to see two little girls running away from each other with nobody chasing either one of them. After a while she's back to one of us imploring us to resume the hunt.

The funny thing is, it's not like there's any doubt that we can catch her. There's really no trying to it. The one advantage she has is that McCall and I are usually pretty tired by the end of the day and we're kind of sluggish. In fact, to a curious pedestrian we might even appear like a scene out of some horror movie: two zombies slowly stalking a toddler yelling, "Try to catch me, try to catch me!" Call it Late Afternoon of the Living Dead.

I've been saying it a lot recently, but I can't wait for Marley to start walking. He'll love trying to catch her. Then the two of them can play with each other and McCall and I can sit on the porch and take part in the newest parental craze sweeping the nation: keeping an eye out for potential kidnappers.

Night and Day

2009-03-07T11:06:00.001-08:00

I can't believe how different Marley and Harper are. And it's not little things. It's really big things that create a significant difference in our experiences with them. You may recall (though probably not) my post about how much Harper hates to sleep. You should check it out, it's a good read.

Anyway, while she is still as adamant about not sleeping now as she was then, Marley is so easy. We lay him down, he goes to sleep. Usually we give him a bottle, but there have been times when I put him in his crib, and he'll wind down and go to sleep on his own. This has never, ever, ever happened with Harper. From the time she was very young, I'm talking weeks old, she would scream and wail against the prospect of being put in her crib to go to sleep. As soon as she could pull up (which was pretty early) she would stand at her crib side and cry until she started coughing and choking.

Harper took her first steps at eight months and was walking confidently by nine months. This excited us because we thought we must have the most brilliant child ever. However, now it feels like we got a truncated infancy stage and have had an extremely long toddler stage. Marley on the other hand is right on track. He's just started experimenting with standing and should probably be walking by his first birthday (as opposed to climbing up steps and going down slides like HJ), so we're getting an idea of what real babyhood is like.

One thing that really frustrates me about Marley is his extreme dislike of laying on his back during diaper changes. If Harper had this issue I do not remember it at all. Marley, as soon as I lay him down, starts fussing. He squirms and writhes and as soon as I let him go he flips over onto his belly and starts trying to crawl off the changing table. The only thing I can do is try to distract him with a toy or something. Thankfully, Harper is pretty much potty trained at this point so we're only changing diapers for one kid. And I'm so thankful because Harper's toddler dukes are not pretty in her training potty. And her bottom is much easier to clean after sitting on the toilet than if she were to sit in it for a minute before being changed!

One way that they are very similar, though is their appearance. Marley looks like a mini version of Harper. Their first pictures are almost indistinguishable as seen below:

Harper and Marley as infants. That's Harper above, and Marley on the right. Or is it Marley above, and Harper on the right...?

Mr. Marley Man Update

2009-03-04T20:29:00.001-08:00

I can't believe how quickly Marley is growing and learning. In just the past few weeks he's had so many breakthroughs. He recently started sitting up all on his own, and I anticipate that he will be standing soon and at some point will start walking.

I didn't want him to ambulate too early because Harper was SO quick to walk that it seemed we were chasing her right out of the womb. But Marley has gotten so big that it's just become painful to carry him around. My arms are constantly sore and I can't wait to be able to put him down and have him not fuss about being limited by his inability to keep up with the rest of us. I mean, we go on walks around the neighborhood and all he does is cry about having to crawl on the sidewalk.

He's also started patting his lap, and clapping his hands. We play a game when he's in his highchair. We say, "Pat, pat, pat," and he pats the table top. Then we say, "Clap, clap, clap," and he pats the table top. Then we say, "No, clap, clap, clap!" and he pats the table top. So we say, "Fine, pat, pat, pat," and he claps. It's a lot of fun. I call that game Stratego.

Then just today we discovered that he can wave goodbye and say Mama. As I reported below, he's been able to say Dada for a while but today was the first time that we heard Mama and it really seemed that it was directed at McCall. She got so excited. Then I asked her if she really wanted Marley to be able to ask for Mama. After all, one of McCall's biggest frustrations is that Harper almost exclusively wants her Mommy. Very seldom does she ever ask for Daddy. Hey, it's not my fault, although it probably doesn't help that when she does say Daddy, I correct her. "No, no, no, you mean Mommy. Now try again."

The goodbye wave is cute, it's the classic baby wave which is actually more of an open-shut action with the fingers and less of a wave. I don't quite get how babies see a wave and mimic it as this finger flex motion but whatever. Although there is a part of me that's concerned that when I blow Marley a kiss he mimics this by flipping me the bird. Probably just a phase.

A Very Sweet Moment

2009-02-28T10:21:00.001-08:00

So last night I was reading in bed. I discovered this amazing techno-thriller called Daemon which I cannot recommend highly enough. It's a bit over my head technically, but the author keeps the story compelling (and frightening) enough that you cannot put it down. But I digress.

So I'm reading in bed and McCall had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room. I heard some rustling and thought it might be McCall, but after a moment I could tell that it was actually Harper. I assumed she was using the potty and would do one of three things, 1) go back to bed; low probability, 2) go out to the living room; high probability, or 3) come into our room; moderate probability.

Well, it ended up being number three. I saw her little head on the far side of the bed and put my book down and looked at her. Typically, in the middle of the night she is very groggy and sometimes severely discombobulated. But while she was obviously sleepy, she was also alert. As soon as I looked at her, her face changed from the sleepy, "it's too bright in here" frown common to most of us to a great big smile. She then reached out to me and rushed to the side of the bed to be lifted up. I pulled her in and she snuggled right up to me.

She wanted some water so I got her cup from her room and then she wanted to be under the covers so I pulled them over her. We lay there for a minute and I relished every second. I was afraid to breathe because I knew it was unlikely that she would fall asleep with me. After a moment she asked, "Where Mommy?", signaling the beginning of the end. I informed her that Mommy was in the living room on the couch and she could either stay with me or...

Before I could finish listing her options she was head, shoulders, knees, and toes rushing out the door for the living room. Oh well. I'll take what I can get. And what I got will be a cherished memory. For me at least.

Our Yellow Butterfly Ballerina

2009-02-27T08:12:00.000-08:00

So Harper Jo has been taking this Ballet/Tap class for toddlers, and she LOVES it. Her only complaint? The ballerina clothes were all black and pink and white. She wanted YELLOW (her very favorite color) and let me tell you, yellow tights are hard enough to find, let alone a whole outfit. But thank the lord for both the internet and a site called Etsy.com - where someone can hand-make just about any darn thing you might need/want. In my case, it was a full yellow ballet/butterfly getup. (See, at a certain point in class, the kids all put on their wings and do a flaying dance.) Anyhoo... my girl got her yellow and I must admit, it does suit her rather well. ; )

Single Dad pt. 2

2009-02-04T09:10:00.000-08:00

Well, day two of the adventure also went pretty well. Picked up Marley and Harper and went over to the Eyres. When we pulled up Harper asked if Alaina lived there. I had to explain that we weren't going to see Alaina and she has a different family that lives elsewhere. I think she associates Jackson and Alaina and considers them a package deal. See one, see the other.

Clarice didn't arrive with the kids for a while so Harper was pulling everything out. She even dumped all of Jackson's Hotwheels on the floor. I made sure she picked them up reminding her how particular Jackson is about his cars. Jack-Jack has a little duck call that Harper loves. She kept blowing this thing all night.

As soon as Jackson came through the door he said, "Harper's here?". He was very excited to see her. Harper did pretty well eating her pizza (after removing every bit of topping including most of the cheese!). She had a bit of salad, and a bite of pineapple and grape. After she was excused she was all ready to play again. But Jackson apparently LOVES to sit at the table. He would not get up from his seat. Clarice told me that the other night she had to set the timer for 30 minutes and then made him leave the table. That is so not Harper.

So then Marley started to get fussy as it was already past 7:30pm (his bedtime). I gave him a bottle, packed him up and gathered all our stuff and we headed home. After another phone call to Mommy for lullaby, Harper went to sleep very easily.

I thought I had everything situated nicely when Marley started crying. I could tell it wasn't regular crying and he was coughing a lot. I gave him a bit of medicine, and offered a bottle, but he was not interested. I picked him up so he wouldn't wake up Harper and tried to soothe him. But nothing worked. I changed his diaper, offered the bottle again. But I had a hunch that he was having gas pains because he wouldn't take the bottle. I gave him Mylicon. Put him down, he cried. Picked him up, he cried. I sang, sat, bounced, walked, swayed. And he cried. Finally, he settled. I went to the living room.

He starts crying again! Then here comes Harper Jo, all flustered and confused. So now I have to put HJ back to bed but Mr. Marley Man is still all fussy. I explain to Harper that I need to check on Marley. Then she starts losing it. Okay. I figure she's closer to sleep than he is anyway. I'll stay here for a second and check on him when she's out. After about ten minutes, I was able to leave her room. And Marley was asleep. Try everything, something's bound to work, right? Well, something did work and he slept soundly the rest of the night. Harper joined me as usual in the middle of the night and showed me how much she loves me by digging her heels in my side. Ah, fatherhood.

Well, both kids are away to school again, but my day is short because Harper has a commercial audition at 4:30pm in Santa Monica so I have to take both of them! Yikes. We'll see how it goes.

Single Dad

2009-02-03T09:46:00.000-08:00

McCall is out of town this week in Salt Lake City, Utah, so I am on my own with Harper and Marley. Last night actually went very well. Marley is fine, I'm not sure he knows that he's supposed to miss Mommy yet. I almost think that he won't notice she's gone until she gets back, then it will be like, "Oh yeah, I haven't seen you in forever!" and I think he'll be really excited and happy. In the meantime, I think his thoughts are something closer to, "Something's different. What is it? Okay, okay, wait a second, I got it, it's on the tip of my brain...nope. Lost it. Hey, look a duckie!"

But for Harper it's a totally different situation. She was really good after school. She was great during dinner (she won the Clean Plate Award for eating all her pasta). She was allowed to watch one episode of the Berenstain Bears, she had a nice bath, we read books. But then it came that time when I usually leave and McCall sings to her. Suddenly, she started saying how much she wanted her mommy there.

How do you explain to a two year old that her mommy is in Utah and can't be at home right now? It's very hard. But thank goodness for 21st century technology! I got my cell phone, put it on speaker, called up McCall and voila, lullaby time! It worked really well and Harper calmed down after we hung up. I thought it was going to be all smooth sailing after that. But Harper has this music playing, light up, plastic aquarium thing (this really is me trying to explain it the best way I can!!!). If you have kids, you probably have an idea what I'm talking about, if not just don't worry about it too much. Suffice to say that Harper uses this thing to help her fall asleep each night.

Well the batteries have been dying for a while and last night they went kaput. It would stay on for about twelve seconds at a time. And Harper kept sitting up to turn it back on. I knew she would never be able to go to sleep while she was reaching back and pushing the button so much. So I stood over her and pushed the button until she went to sleep. You got to do what you got to do, right?

And so far so good this morning as well. Marley to school (a bit late). Harper to school (a bit early). And tonight we have plans to go to a friend's house for pizza! Hooray. Should be a good time for all (fingers firmly crossed).

Our Trip To Cleveland...During The Coldest Week Ever

2009-01-19T16:59:00.000-08:00

So last week we flew to Cleveland to visit McCall's family. And boy did we choose the perfect week to be there. Record lows and non-stop snow. Yep, that basically sums up our trip. Meanwhile, Los Angeles set a record for the warmest week in January. Nice timing.

Here now, is the Blogosphere version of family vacation slides.

Harper Jo and Charlie, McCall's mother's dog.

Harper had never seen real snow before. She'd seen a lot about snow in cartoons and heard all about it at school. But to actually see her experience it for the first time was awesome. And all she wanted to do was make snow angels.

The finished product!

And more snow angels...

Seriously, this is all she did in the snow for two days!

Well, that and this...

I love this picture. Harper looks so happy to be in the snow. Everything is so peaceful. You can imagine the wooded area we found to take this snap shot.

In reality it was next to the hotel parking lot...

We spent a lot of time participating in indoor activities like eating meals, watching TV, and taking naps. But McCall found the Cleveland Children's Museum online, so we braved the frozen tundra and drove through the whipping snow to be inside somewhere else instead of our hotel room.

The Cleveland Children's Museum features animal costumes for the kiddos. Or, if you're married to McCall, they're for everyone. Hooray!

Piggy Marley

McCall is one hot chick!

Harper driving. I thought I had another 14 years
before this nightmare becomes reality.

ET?
No, it's HJ!

The Cleveland Children's Museum teaches kids how to shop.
What a valuable service!

"What?"

"This one was on sale!"

Marley the weatherman says, "Expect more snow, Cleveland."

McCall's mom (or Mamoo) has quite a menagerie at her home: dog, cat, pig, sheep, llama, two alpacas. One of Harper's favorites is an African Gray named Einstein. Einstein can sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame", but he's also an Indians fan which begs the question how smart can he really be, but I digress. Harper loved feeding him peanuts, which I told her was bird food. After seeing me eat several she started asking me for bird food.

"Seriously, what?!?"

We visited our good friend's the Weinstocks and Harper got to catch up with their daughter, Gilda.

Then, deciding that Cleveland just wasn't exciting enough, we drove 45 minutes south to Akron! There we spent the evening with McCall's friend Rachel. Harper loved Rachel's kids, Clay and Gwen.

"Hold everything, you two..."

"...smile if you want hot chocolate."

Marley even got to meet his Great Grandparents John and Joanne Sanders...

"We want to go home!"

Cutest...baby picture...ever!

Last round of "goodbyes" before heading home...

Mamoo

Uncle Jeff

Great Grandma Sanders

Great Grandpa Sanders

One Final Note:
Sunday, after we got home, McCall ended up with a flat tire about two blocks from our house. While walking up to meet her (in flip flops, a t-shirt, and shorts), I was thinking about how warm it was. I couldn't believe that only a day before I was packing up a car in the falling snow with a frozen mustache! In spite of it all, I think we had a great time, but were all very thankful to be back home.

Marley Firsts

2008-12-29T19:47:00.000-08:00

Okay, so enough about Harper (for now). Let's remember the second cutest Lawrence boy in the family. Marley is now seven months old and is advancing every day. It constantly amazes me how quickly he is growing up.

About a month ago, Marley said his first word, "Da Da". It came in a string of nonsense babble, and it is clear that it is not actually connected to any intent of identifying me. Regardless, he has been very consistent in repeating it.

Then, about two weeks ago we felt a tooth just below the surface of his gums. Now both bottom teeth have poked through! He can gnaw on all sorts of things now (although his favorites still remain anything plastic and colorful). It certainly has been a momentous month for our little Marley Man.

He's even started getting up on all fours and rocking forward and back. We expect him to begin full on crawling any day now. When he does the rocking motion he kind of looks like he's a sprinter in the starting blocks waiting for the starter's pistol. Unfortunately, all his effort only allows him to move backwards so it's not very effective form for a competitive runner. But we have some time to work on that.

Harper the Grinch

2008-12-23T19:39:00.000-08:00

Christmas time brings with it it's very set of challenges when you have a two year old and a six month old. For instance, if your home is totally child proofed (like ours), you have to start from scratch when it comes to decorations and tree lights. Heck, even the tree itself can be a death trap (not like ours). Then there are the presents to consider. Do you put them out a little at a time and hope that little feet don't step on them? Or wait and dump them all at once on Christmas eve with no build up of anticipation? We've decided to go with the first option. And so it was that last week McCall and I decided we would try to have a nice date with some friends of ours, leaving a neat pile of wrapped presents under our tree.

We were going out for a little dinner and a show. We had an extra pair tickets for Jesus Christ, Superstar starring Ted Neeley (the original Jesus from the movie). Now, it should be noted that Ted Neeley is nearly twice as old as Jesus when he died so it's a bit of a stretch to say the least. But, I will say that old Ted has still got some great pipes and was very impressive hitting some of the toughest notes.

Now, while McCall and I were blissfully enjoying our evening without a care, Harper and Marley were at home with a babysitter who will remain unnamed. Said babysitter definitely had her hands full because she was also watching Harper's best friend, Sophia (also two years old). Probably while feeding Marley, or giving him a bath, the babysitter lost track of Harper.

Harper then went totally Grinch on us and tried to steal Christmas! When we got home we found one of the gifts under the tree had been opened - a present from me to McCall, which will remain unnamed - and the box was empty. Actually, it wasn't empty. Instead of the gift I purchased, there was a plastic "K" from a toy alphabet collection. I assured McCall that this was not what I had gotten for her. After several minutes, she believed me. But I still had to find the gift.

I dug around the tree skirt on hands and knees and finally turned up McCall's present hidden within the folds. I was so upset with Harper (as well as the anonymous babysitter), but in the end I'm reconsidering. Perhaps I should thank them both. After all, McCall can't be very disappointed with whatever is actually inside the little box. Even if she doesn't love it I can always say, "Hey, at least it's not a plastic 'K'."

Dancing Queen

2008-12-13T23:24:00.000-08:00

Harper Jo loves to dance. Like most kids she is totally un-self conscious when it comes to busting a move. This is simultaneously heart warming and totally hilarious, because lets face it, toddlers are lousy dancers. They have no rhythm, poor muscle control, and a drunkard's sense of balance. But still one of my greatest joys as a father is watching Harper get down.

Almost all kids start out with the same dance. The dance is basically bending your knees and bobbing up and down. Some little ones who are very advanced in their motor development might even throw in a side to side rock. It's like an instinctual bone God throws to us all, as if to say, "If you never get any better, at least you should always have this one in your repertoire." Such is the case for my dad.

Harper's first real personalized dance movement was what we've come to lovingly call "the Peg Leg." While dancing the Peg Leg, Harper keeps one leg completely stiff and pushes forward off it while catching herself with the other. I've not really seen it anywhere else, so I think it's a true original. And totally hilarious.

It was also pretty early that she was jumping up and down on the bed shouting "Shake your booty." We never quite figured out where that came from. However, as jumping on the bed isn't really dance, I digress.

Next she developed a very simple double arm wave. Compare Harper's dance (shot on my cell phone)
with this clip from a Charlie Brown Christmas and pay close attention to the red head in the upper left corner. Even though she's never seen this Charlie Brown special, I couldn't help but see a similarity. Separated at birth? We may never know.

But recently Harper Jo's added a brand new "go to" move. Now, if you ask her dance she will kind of jump around or shake her booty like she's building toward something. Then suddenly she gets down on her hands and feet and sticks one of her legs way up in the air. It's almost like she's trying to do a somersault and can't generate the momentum to get her feet over her head. Again, we have no idea where this came from or how it developed. None of her friends or schoolmates are dropping these kind of mad skillz so it's not peer influenced.

It is possible that she may be trying to imitate some break dancing she saw on one of her favorite shows, Yo Gabba Gabba. A kids show that features break dancing (not to mention Tony Hawk, and Biz Markie)? Now that's good programming.

Whatever the case, it's easy to see that Harper has a genuine love of dance, and I look forward to seeing her next wave of dance evolution.

Spanish Fly

2008-12-09T16:22:00.000-08:00

We live in an area of Los Angeles called Korea Town. True to its name, a significant portion of the local population is Korean, and a huge amount of businesses are Korean owned and operated. In fact I can't read most of the merchant signs in my neighborhood because none of them are in English. It's almost like going on vacation to a foreign country every day. Except instead of that location being different, it's always Seoul. In addition, there is also a massive Latino population in Korea Town. So I guess some days it's like visiting De La Seoul. Rimshot!

Harper goes to a preschool at the end of the block whose students are primarily Latino. And her best friend is of Venezuelan descent, so she gets an earful of Spanish every day. I think this is great. I wish I had a better grasp of the Spanish language, and I think if she can be fluent someday, it will open up doors of opportunity for her throughout her life.

However, right now her handle of Spanish is a bit iffy. Up till now her primary educators have been Dora and Diego. So she knows arriba (up) and abajo (down), and she can tell us that dinner is delicioso! Harper also knows how to count in Spanish...sort of.
Harper: Uno, dos, tres, taco, cinco...
Me: No, quatro. Like daddy's razor. (Rimshot!)
Harper: Cinco, quatro...
Me: No, tres, quatro, cinco.
Harper: Tres, taco, cinco, quatro...
Me: Nevermind, watch some more Dora.
Harper: ¡Delicioso!

But there's one word she has down pat, sí. In fact, she doesn't say yes anymore. Only sí. The other day I asked her if she could say "yes". She said, "S..., yes." She had to stop and correct herself because she was going to say sí! Oh well, I guess I shouldn't complain. She could be bringing home a lot worse words than that from preschool.

The Crying Game

2008-12-08T19:19:00.000-08:00

You know how scientists say that you can tell approximately how far away lightning is by counting how long between the flash of light and the sound of thunder? I've always heard that it's one mile for every second that elapses.

Well I've developed a similar method, sort of a game, for determining how badly Harper and Marley are hurt based on the same science. The length of silence between the catalyzing event and the first shrill cry is directly proportionate to the severity of the injury. Here's an example from about 30 minutes ago.

Marley was playing on the floor with a toy. As he was playing he bonked himself in the head. Immediately he started flailing, kicking and clutching. But there was no noise, not a peep. His face was distorted in a soundless howl, as though he had hurt himself in a silent movie and was waiting for the title screen to read "Waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh". And then the floodgates burst and much high pitched wailing followed. Fifteen seconds between impact and the breaking of the sound barrier. Pretty bad.

But I've also found this observation to be fairly useful. It provides a concrete criterion for us to communicate boo boos to each other.
"Harper fell out of her chair."
"How bad was it?"
"Not bad, three seconds of silence."

However, unlike with real science, this is something you can use in everyday life. If you have a little one, see if my observation isn't spot on. And if you don't, go sit at a park and watch toddles in their natural environment. You'll probably get all the necessary data to replicate my findings.

Harper 2.5

2008-12-04T15:19:00.000-08:00

So Harper is now two and a half years old! It's really amazing how quickly she's growing up and how beautiful she is. Here are a couple of anecdotes to make you wish she was your child.

Harper loves to watch videos in our family vehicle, which she call's "mommy's car". When we drive around town, she watches DVDs of her favorite shows (Dora, Diego, etc.), educational videos, or kids films.
She also loves McDonald's (which she calls "Donald's"). Sometimes I will take her to "Donald's" for special Daddy/Daughter Dates. These are usually nights when McCall is otherwise occupied (read: happy hour) and I don't want to deal with cooking. I follow in a proud tradition of Lawrence men in this respect.
Well one day I was picking her up from day care and she asked me, "We going in Mommy's car?"
"No."
"Mommy's car has videos."
So I asked her, "What does daddy's car have?" She paused for a second, scratched her temple as if deep in thought, then replied, "Donald's".

This is a totally true story. The other day we all leaving the house for a stroll around the neighborhood, and McCall and I were talking about something and McCall remarked that it "makes me feel bad." Without missing a beat, Harper corrected her, "Makes you feel badly." We were both shocked and amazed. We have no idea how she knew the correct grammar.

Harper is very inclusive. She likes to make everybody feel involved. If we're playing Ring Around the Rosey, or having a dance party in the living room, she wants everybody to get up and take part. This comes out in conversation, too. I may ask her, "Harper, do you know that I love you?" And she will often reply, "Uh huh, and Mommy, and Marley, and Harper, and Daddy," making sure it's clear that I love everybody in our family. And often it doesn't stop with our immediate family, she wants to make sure I love all her friends and their families as well, "...and 'Laina, and Jack Jack, and Sophia, and Vikki, and Tina." Yes, I love them all, but really I just want to make sure you know I love you!

And just this morning we were sitting with Harper having breakfast talking about an audition she had yesterday. McCall and Harper were telling me about the actor who was playing the role of her father. They were telling me in what ways the two of us are similar and different.
"Eyes," Harper said. "That's right. They both have blue eyes."
"No hair," Harper said while rubbing her face. "No, he didn't have any facial hair, did he?"
Then McCall asked her a question in terms she could understand, "Which one is prettier?"
"Harper!"
I think she's probably right.

Mr. Marley Man

2008-12-03T16:45:00.000-08:00

Please welcome our newest addition (better late than never!), Marley David Lawrence. Marley joined our crew on May 21st, 2008. He arrived via c-section (planned this time), of which I got some gnarly video and photos, which I will spare you.

Marley spent much of his first month in and out of the hospital due to jaundice and then some digestive complications which required a spinal tap!

Marley's first time in a tanning bed.

Harper is very excited about her role as big sister.

But he is now VERY big and healthy and is the smiliest little buddy around. He is already rolling over, and should soon master quantum physics.

Happy Mothers Day!

2008-05-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

The Baby Shouter

2008-03-12T14:41:00.000-07:00

The time is approaching. Soon there will be another Lawrence added to our family. Marley Elijah (or maybe William, or perhaps David, possibly Jacob...the middle name is a little up in the air), is due in mid-May.

Harper has known about the imminent arrival for a long time now and she seems to be adjusting well. Of course, it's all theoretical right now and who knows how she'll react when we actually bring home her little brother. But for now she's pretty open to the concept.

For months now, when we ask her where the baby is she's been pointing to McCall's belly. But recently she started taking it to a whole new level. Now she will go over to McCall and shout at her belly button, "Hello, baby Marley!" at the top of her lungs. It's very cute and only slightly disruptive to our neighbors.

A Royal Birthday Party

2008-02-26T16:24:00.000-08:00

Daycare is kind of the common denominator of society. Regardless of where you are on the scale, chances are you need to have your kid in some sort of childcare program so you can do all the things that you can't do while constantly running after a toddler.

This creates a pretty interesting phenomenon wherein people from all walks of life mix together without really knowing it. I mean, the average conversation I have with my fellow daycare parents is something along the lines of, "Hi, how are you?", followed by pleasant response.

However, our kids are spending eight hours a day together so they become best friends. This was how we came to be invited to a very impressive birthday party. One of Harper's classmates, Estella, was celebrating her second birthday and all the kids from her daycare received special invitations in the shape of a crown. The invitation specifically said, "Royal Attire Requested". Unfortunately, Harper went as a little piggie on Halloween so we had to go out and buy a princess costume. Luckily we live in LA and the best costume shop on the planet is right up in Hollywood and is open year round.

I wanted to get a traditional pink princess costume. McCall in her need to be "different", wanted to dress Harper (our DAUGHTER) as a knight. A knight! I reminded her that Harper was born sans penis, and she said, "You know, like Joan of Arc." I reminded McCall that Joan of Arc was likely schizophrenic and was definitely burned at the stake!

We compromised and purchased a traditional pink princess costume.

Harper and her friend, Estella.

We also decided that we'd have a little fun with it all and bought a crown and sceptor for me, and a tiara for McCall. I decided to have a little more fun and threw on my bathrobe and pulled up some dress socks to look a little more kingly.

We knew that Estella lived in the Hollywood Hills so we left plenty of time to deal with traffic, winding hilly roads, and the possibility of getting lost (even with a navigation system those roads can be tricky). As it turns out we were the first guests to arrive.

A cake fit for a princess!

At first, I thought I had the wrong address. But all the balloons suggested otherwise. You see, the house was not what you expect for a couple and their two year old daughter. It was more along the lines of say...Tony Montana. This is by no means an indictment of Estella's parents. They are, in fact, wonderful, generous, caring people. It's just to say, this place was HUGE!

Princess Harper and King Daddy

We showed up at the same time as Cinderella. That's right, Estella's parents hired a woman in full Cinderella costume to provide entertainment for the kiddos. When we entered the home we had to walk up three flights of stairs to get to the floor where the party was going to take place. Of course we could have taken the elevator but I wanted the exercise.

Cinderella made balloon animals, did face paint, pedicures, a magic show and washed our car. Okay, I made up the bit about the balloon animals.

There were decorations everywhere, including huge Fat Head-style wall prints of all the Disney princesses. The party was totally catered with delicious chicken penne, calamari, and mussels in paella.

The house overlooks Los Angeles and has an amazing view of the Hollywood sign from nearly the same elevation. It was a really spectacular setting.

Lots more people showed up to the party and while several little ones had various costumes on, I was the only adult wearing a bathrobe and crown. Go figure. But we had a great time and were so appreciative of Estella's parents going out of their way to make a truly magical evening for all the kids.

Run, Daddy, Run!

2008-02-11T15:17:00.000-08:00

Marriage and fatherhood are life altering events. For me they also happened to be body altering as I have been hovering around 200 lbs. since about the time Harper was born. I knew my lifestyle was demanding a change. I had little energy, was sluggish in the mornings, snacked a lot and generally was just not very fit. In short, I was an average American dad.

Then, last November (or so) a friend of mine challenged me to change the way I ate and start exercising. I was getting pretty tired of seeing my gut every time I got of the shower. Plus I had all these great t-shirts I couldn't wear anymore because I was too heavy.

Since that time I've been eating much better by cutting out most of my fast food intake, cutting back most of my soda intake, and getting much more regular exercise. I'm down about 15 lbs. and have been running around my neighborhood. However, I wanted to see if I can run around my neighborhood faster than other people. But since that was too difficult to organize, I decided I would participate in organized events.

So in January I ran in my first race, the Miracle Mile 5K. Unfortunately, because most things I do are poorly planned the first time (no offense, Harper), we forgot the camera. Not that it would have mattered anyway. Since I had never run a race before, I had no idea how long it would take me so I conservatively estimated for McCall that I would be about 45 minutes. Which is why she and Harper were eating breakfast in a nearby diner when I crossed the finish line at 29:31.

Yesterday, I ran in the 30th Annual Firecracker Run, part of the festivities in Chinatown celebrating Chinese new year. This year, 4706, is the year of the rat. The race earns it name because before the start of the 5K they set off 100,000 fire crackers at the starting line! Then we all stood around ready to go while they swept up the debris.

And this time we brought the camera and McCall and Harper waited patiently for me run from Chinatown up to Dodger Stadium and back. I completed the course in 27:52 and McCall got some great shots (see below).

Getting limber, i.e. Trying not to pull a muscle!

Before the race, I found a little beggar girl. Better luck next time, sweetheart.

Harper was crushed to find out that she could not be a Chinese beauty queen because she's too short.

Harper and Daddy before the race.

Racers and spectators look on as 100,000 firecrackers add to LA's air pollution.

The final stretch. That's me on the right but somehow my arms got transplanted onto the guy on the left!

This Sunday I attempt my first 10K (pray for me!!!), and I'll be competing in events at least once a month through June. So keep checking back to see if I can get under the elusive 25 minute mark.

Home Sick

2008-02-02T22:10:00.001-08:00

Sickness has befallen my household in a major way. A few weeks ago Harper came down with a bad cold. We suspect that she actually picked up respiratory syncytial virus (RSV) from a friend but we can't be certain. Regardless, there seems to be a lot of nastiness floating around SoCal right now and most of the people we know (especially those with kiddos) are coming down ill.

Due to the extremely responsible yet annoying rules of Harper's daycare, she couldn't go lest she infect the entire infant/toddler population. So we've been home with her for most of the last three weeks. It's kind of a microcosm of last year when she was sick from November to March.

McCall likes to be really cuddly and kissy with Harper so, surprise, surprise, she is also now really sick with infections and coughing and leaky eye and sorts of just bad. Meanwhile, God has blessed me with terrific health. So here I am trying to take care of Harper Jo and McCall while also trying to not run out of steam (or patience).

Harper go so bad that for a while her breathing was pretty labored and her oxygen level was at 83%. So the good people at Kaiser Permanente gave us a nebulizer, which is basically a machine that vaporizes albuterol (a medicine commonly found in asthma inhalers) to assist her breathing. The problem is you have to strap on a mask to breathe it in and we had to give it to her every four hours.

Harper has a future in Scuba diving.

At first Harper hated the treatments. We had to physically restrain her and hold the mask over her face for 15-20 minutes. Eventually we were able to bribe her with TV. We would only allow her to watch one of her favorite shows, Go Baby, while using the nebulizer. It worked brilliantly and now she will ask for the mask whenever she wants to watch the show.

It's just one more way that TV gets an assist when it comes to raising our child.

Christmas Chaos!

2008-01-09T14:30:00.000-08:00

Were your holidays like ours? I sincerely hope not for so many reasons I don't want to go into right now. But it wasn't all crying and feelings of hopelessness. We also had a really fun Christmas morning. At least Harper did.

Somewhere along the way Christmas changed for me. I wasn't upset when gifts transitioned from Star Wars figures to Nintendo games. That was actually pretty cool. But then I started getting "grown up" gifts. Dress shirts, organizers, desk calendars. You start to get needs instead of wants as you grow older. This is all well and good, I don't want to sound ungrateful. But there's something about being a six year old boy and getting a Jabba the Hut Action Playset that really inspires the imagination.

Harper made out like a bandit this year. I was never an only child, so I never had two parents, two sets of grandparents, and scads of aunts and uncles buying exclusively for me. This was Harper's situation for Christmas 2007. Some highlights:

The first thing Harper opened was her ginormous, overstuffed stocking. Among her favorites, was this Elmo doll.

Perhaps her favorite gift was this baby doll from her Great Grandmother, which came complete with pacifier and sippy cup.

Some for you...

...some for me.

Harper also got some books. I think her reaction below says it all.

Harper's favorite TV show is Teletubbies so we got her the entire collection.

From left: Po, Dipsy, Tinky Winky. Not pictured: Laa-laa

One of the more...unique gifts we received came from Harper's Great Uncle Jeff. It's a stuffed, sleeping dog that breathes. Just put in the batteries, turn it on, and watch it sleep. And breathe. Not overly exciting but with all the electronic doodads and gizmos she got, it was actually a really nice change of pace to have a calm toy that just quietly lays still. Thanks Jeff!

This comatose dog is the only animal in the house that doesn't poop, pee, or puke on the carpets and furniture (including Harper and McCall)!

Thoughts On Discovering We're Pregnant

2008-01-09T14:25:00.000-08:00

In case you don't know, McCall is pregnant. She has been for quite a while, actually. So long that we know we're having a boy. But we wanted to be a little more cautious this time around just in case it "didn't take". Anyway, the day we found out she asked me to write down my thoughts. Here they are:

Wow, what a day! This morning we found out McCall is pregnant. She’s been feeling really poorly for the last two weeks. So yesterday she suggested I pick up an early pregnancy test while I was shopping at the grocery store. I know, fellas, I’m living the dream!

So this morning McCall peed on the thing, and the little plus sign showed up. I think it was either trying to be positive, or it was trying to remind us that we were about to be adding a lot. Adding another mouth, adding more dirty diapers, adding debt. Plus sign indeed.

But today also got me thinking. There are a few specific days that really stand out as defining moments in your life. Some may be bad, like the passing of a loved one, the end of a relationship, failure in the big game. But there are also amazing, positive days that change our lives forever. Graduation, promotion, I do.

Obviously, one of the most life changing days we can possibly experience is bringing a baby into the world. But almost equally as impacting is discovering that you’re expecting. In fact, I consider the day before I learned McCall was pregnant with Harper the last worry free day of my life.

So it’s a good thing I’d already given up my Bear Necessities attitude this morning when McCall took the pregnancy test. Actually, I should more accurately say, when she so totally failed the pregnancy test.

And it’s funny because I bought the cheapest test I could find and then we went to Kaiser Permanente and the most sophisticated medical machines available confirmed the ten dollar plastic stick sitting by the bathroom sink at home. So don’t spend extra bucks for a brand name, they all work the same. Okay, that’s my consumer advocate advice for the month.

Outside

2007-12-19T12:56:00.000-08:00

Harper has learned the difference between inside and outside. Unfortunately for us, she only wants to be outside now. As soon as she wakes up in the morning she's asking to go outside.

As soon as we get her home from day care she wants to go outside. When she wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming and crying. She doesn't ask for mommy, doesn't want daddy. She wants to go outside.

Sometimes we'll take her out onto the balcony patio we have. This is not what Harper means when she says, "outside" (or more accurately, "owshide"). Harper has a very specific intent when she requests to be outside.

To her, outside means getting in the swing we have hanging from the tree in our front yard. She loves to go really high in her swing for about ninety seconds. Then she starts frantically signing "all done". As soon as I let her down from the swing, she runs over to our side yard and waits for me to open the gate.

Her first stop is typically the ladybug sandbox. She scoops sand pours it into this funnel thing which spins a paddle wheel as it falls through. Next, she likes to go into her playhouse and stand at the sink. She rubs her hands together and says, "wash". She will also usually ring the playhouse doorbell a few times just to make sure it's still working.

Next she'll go down her little slide once or twice, point to one of the neighborhood cats and say, "shishy", which is how she says "kitty" (as well as "fishy" as when she asks for her favorite Goldfish crackers). She also points to the fish wind chime that hangs outside our neighbor's window by the side yard and says, "shishy" (which is also how she says "kitty").

So at 3:00am, when Harper starts crying to go outside, it's nearly impossible to calm her down. We have to distract her or something and we're usually up anywhere from one to three hours. Harper still has a really hard time sleeping and almost never sleeps undisturbed between midnight and 6:00am.

McCall was lamenting the other day the fact that she taught Harper the difference between inside and outside. But at least this way we know what she wants. It would be so much worse if we just couldn't figure out what she was crying for. At least in theory.

Mini-vacay!

2007-12-01T22:20:00.000-08:00

What a week! I don't even know where to begin. The beginning just seems so contrived. EVERY story begins at the beginning. Except those tediously obnoxious stories that begin somewhere in the middle or even the end! Get over yourself, just start at the beginning like a normal story.

We had plans to visit my brother, Joel, and his family in Minneapolis for Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, Harper Jo got sick so we postponed our flight a few days. We ended up having Thanksgiving dinner with old family friends, the Sunukjians. Harper Jo didn't get better, though, and it turned out she had a mild case of Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. So we canceled the flight we had previously postponed.

This left us in a bit of a quandary. We had nowhere to go, nothing to do, a week in which to do it, and Harper Jo the whole time. That's right, she was barred from daycare for 10 days. I guess I'm thankful for that policy, but it sure bit us at the worst time. I started thinking about last year when we went down to San Diego the weekend after Thanksgiving. We had a such a great time. Then McCall's grandmother suggested we take a quick getaway to San Diego.

We Pricelined four star hotels in San Diego and got the Hilton Resort Mission Bay for a reasonable rate. We booked two nights and had a plan: we would drive down and spend the day at the SD Zoo, sleep, the next day go to the SD Wildlife Park, sleep, return home.

Then, and I swear I'm not making this up, we get a call from Harper's agent. She has an audition for Mattel the second day of our mini-vacay. Get on the horn, change nights, new plan: audition, drive, zoo, sleep, park, sleep, home.

The audition ran later than we estimated. We made it to the zoo about an hour before it closed. We had planned to become members either way, because then we got free admission to the wildlife park. So we went in and made sure there were still animals at the zoo, then we left.

At that point the plan morphed to: eat, sleep, zoo, sleep, park, home.

The zoo was a blast. We had a great time and saw all of Harper's favorites (ducks and flamingos, which she refers to as "mingos"). We rode the Skyfari lift three times and we even saw some Great Pandas.

That night we went ate a nice a restaurant/bar called Saska's. They the had the Cowboys and Packers game which was only available on the NFL Network and therefore not available at the Hilton Resort Mission Bay. After dinner, McCall took Harper back to the room while I finished the game. The Cowboys improved to 11-1. The best record in franchise history. Meanwhile, Harper randomly threw up all over McCall and the bed. I wasn't sorry to miss that one.

Friday morning we woke up the strangest thing. There was water, and it was falling. From the sky. It was like the clouds were crying. It'd been so long since I'd seen it, I almost forgot the word for it. Horrificallytorentialdownpour.

Rain hit us like we stole its lunch money. We checked the Weather Channel and all of SoCal was getting drenched. The plan: pack, leave, check out wild life park, eat, determine new plan.

The wild life park seems like it would be a lot of fun on a beautiful day. Yesterday it was the most miserable place on the planet. There was no place to sit down and have a meal indoors. We were there about 10 minutes and called it a bust. Somehow, we spent about $40 there.

The rain was really furious. We found the nearest diner and stopped to eat. The TV reception kept going in and out due to the storm. Thankfully, be the time we were done it had let up a lot. We drove home pretty exhausted. Harper was a handful the whole time.

But all in all, it felt like things really worked out the way they were supposed to. We had such a great time at the zoo, and San Diego is so nice, plus the Cowboys won. It's really hard to complain. It's also really hard to come back. But at least we can put Harper back in day care!

Ice, Ice, Baby

2007-11-26T21:00:00.000-08:00

We decided to take Harper ice skating today. I haven't been ice skating in a long time. A loooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggg time. McCall asked me how long it's been. So long it didn't cause excruciating pain the last time I went.

Let me back up a minute. McCall phoned all the local ice skating rinks to see if any had toddler skates. The Culver Ice Arena carries toddler size six skates. Perfect for Harper Jo. So we loaded her up and made our way down to Culver City.

Before leaving we had a brief debate about how warmly we needed to dress Harper. Did we need a cap, mittens, scarf, etc. I insisted no, it would be cold, but the air wouldn't be too cold. As soon as we walked through the door I knew I was wrong. The place was FREEZING. And besides that every kid in the place was bundled like Everest expeditioners.

In my defense, I grew up in Texas where the only ice rinks were in the middle of malls with huge open space all around. So the cold air was able to rise and diffuse. This place was a huge slab of ice in a room. It was a meat locker.

Anyway, we got laced up, snapped a couple pictures, shot a few minutes of video and then Harper was pretty much done. She made one full lap around the rink being guided by McCall. Then she started crying to leave which was fine with me, because my feet were killing me. I don't know what's changed in the last 17 years but it started by squashing any grace I ever had on ice skates.

We didn't get many, but here are a few pics of Harper at the ice rink.

Harper Jo once again proves that there are no limits to being cute.

"What do you think it is, Harper, 45 degrees?"
"Lower."
"40?"
"Lower."
"35?"
"Lower."

10 Second Picassos

2007-11-21T22:02:00.000-08:00

Harper loves to draw. We gave her some markers and a pad of paper and she started scribbling immediately. Problem is, after a few strokes she's ready for the next sheet. She's very specific about when one of her masterpieces is finished. I imagine in her head it's something like...

Scribble, scribble, scribble
"Voila! Perfect. Next!"

Some pieces for your viewing pleasure:

"Fishy"

"Bunny Rabbit"

"Guernica"

The artist in repose.

One Night Only

2007-11-09T11:09:00.000-08:00

McCall is a HUGE Ben Harper fan. Her affinity is one of the main reasons Harper is so named. McCall has told me numerous times that Ben Harper was the voice of God for her until she could hear Him for herself, that listening to his music was a form of prayer and worship for her.

Last night, Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals played the Orpheum Theatre in downtown Los Angeles. Our good friend and former nanny, Moon, is in town visiting and she agreed to babysit Harper for us so we could go to the show. It was a much needed and anticipated date night for us.

Through a series of events, the details of which I'll spare you, we had an extra pair of tickets we were hoping to unload. We weren't trying to make a profit, we just didn't want to eat the cost of an extra pair of fairly expensive tickets.

We dined at the Daily Grill and before our meal we prayed that God would guide the tickets to the right people. When you live by faith, you never know what moments may lead to life changing experiences for yourself or those around you. So we wanted to be open to the possibility that our extra set of tickets could be God's unexpected grace in someone else's life.

Standing outside waiting for the valet to bring us our car, McCall starting asking other patrons if they were fans of Ben Harper. The first guy professed that he didn't even have cable TV. I'm not sure what that had to do with Ben Harper, but he seemed to offer it as an explanation for not knowing who Ben Harper is. We then saw a young couple and the girl became immediately excited at the prospect of seeing Ben live. Unfortunately, the guy she was with had some "homework" he had to finish and she was unable to raise anybody else on the phone to join her.

So officially that left us at Expensive Tickets 2, Kyle and McCall 0.

We hopped in our car and headed over to the Orpheum hoping we might be able to find someone looking for seats there. McCall was very concerned because the show started at 8pm and we were cutting it close. Almost immediately it seemed that unloading our extra seats was going to be very unlikely. It was obvious that anybody hanging around this area of downtown either already had tickets, was homeless, or was looking to purchase something else.

When we saw the marquee, we realized there was an opening act, Piers Faccini, so we had a little bit of time. McCall and I both thought to call Moon and have her bring Harper down for the show. So Moon roused Harper, rushed out the door, and roared down Wilshire to the Orpheum.

She arrived just in time. McCall took Harper to our seats in Row G, center aisle right as Ben settled into his opening number, 11th Commandment, a solo on his lap steel guitar. Meanwhile, Moon and I took our seats in Row V. If my seat had been any further to the left, I would have been sitting in the parking lot.

I kept looking over to try and see McCall and Harper. Harper was pretty easy to spot with these big florescent pink earphones on. Unfortunately, she tends to get squirmy when we hold her too long. She really loves to run, explore, and meet new people. So McCall was constantly getting in and out of the row. I was very worried that the people next to or behind her would get upset.

I relieved McCall for a while and let Harper roam around the Orpheum's massive lobby. She loved climbing the marbled stairs and we took a quick peak from the mezzanine. Eventually, a very kind couple in the same row (opposite side) gave McCall their aisle seats so she could get in and out more easily. We didn't seem them after that, I guess they just left or something. Regardless, this allowed me and Moon to come down to Row G.

It was so much fun to watch Harper. Everyone around us seemed awestruck by our little girl. People kept checking in with her to see her reaction. Several times she walked down to front of the stage and stand at the security rail. At one point, we gave her a bottle and she sat bobbing on Mommy's shoulders with it stuck in her mouth. It was the funniest sight. I can't imagine that's happened too many times before at one of their shows.

The concert ended at the perfect time; just as Harper was starting to get really restless. At the end of the show McCall carried her down to the front and Leon Mobley, percussion, handed her a drum stick. Then Ben gave her one of the fabric roses that had adorned the piano all night.

The show itself was totally amazing. It had the feeling of a worship service. I could definitely sense God's presence. And why not? If I were God, I'd go to a Ben Harper show. I'm reminded of the song Anyone Can Play Guitar by Radiohead. In it Thom Yorke sings "I want to play in a band when I get to Heaven." Well, I'm pretty sure I'll be watching Ben Harper for the rest of eternity play the lap steel in Heaven's band.

Three moments in particular stand out to me. The first was a cover of Tom Petty's Breadown. I'm a huge classic rocker, so I was stoked when I heard the band playing it. Unfortunately, I was in the men's room at the time with Harper Jo (hey, the title of the blog isn't alliterative lip service). However, we were able to make it back into the theatre to catch the tail end.

The second moment was during Where Could I Go, the last song of the set before the encore. In the middle of the song, the band suddenly went totally quiet. Ben swung the microphone away from his face and stepped in front of the monitors to the very edge of the stage and sang the next verse a cappella. The excitement in the crowd was palpable and many had difficulty containing their hoots and caterwauls.

Ben recoiled from the shouts, obviously wanting absolute quiet. We obliged. Even Harper remained silent. The result was one of the most amazing live performances I've ever witnessed. Ben's voice filled the cavernous hall. I'm very glad I was standing so close to experience this, but I wander if it was wasn't even more spectacular from the balcony. He finished with the lyrics "They say freedom is just a place to hide/Now I'm coming to you with arms open wide/Where could I go but to the Lord," and the band kicked in at full volume as the crowd erupted in ecstatic rhapsody.

The last moment was something really special. Towards the end of the show, the band finished a song and the crowd started cheering. But the band just stood there looking at us. And we cheered louder. For what seemed like five or six full minutes we cheered, the volume rising steadily. But I don't think we were applauding Ben Harper's personal musical achievements as we were the opportunity to come together with so many different people and witness the beauty and inspiration that comes from watching someone do something they love so passionately so excellently.

As he stood there gazing out into the audience, I think Ben Harper felt humbled. He made no gestures to prompt the applause, did nothing to accept it. Simply stood and listened. Ben Harper may be a musician but it's possible this an erroneous label for him. I think more accurately he might be described as a harbinger of joy. Because that's what we were all feeling in that moment. Regardless of what awaited us when left the Orpheum, no matter what demons hunched at the doors, in that moment, everyone in the audience knew they were alive. We felt joy and we expressed it, we lifted it up and shared it with each other.

Eventually, the band had to start playing the next song. Because I for one had no intention of stopping. In fact I was just getting warmed up.

As we filed out, people kept wanting to meet Harper, take her picture, have their picture taken with her. She made tons of friends and brought smiles to everyone. I remembered my prayer from earlier that evening and I realized it had been answered. God had directed those tickets into the right hands. And our family was able to experience an amazing event together.

Not only was it Harper's first Ben Harper show, but it was Moon's as well and she was totally blown away. It felt good that we could give that to her considering how much she does for us. She is a really incredible friend.

God also demonstrated to me His unexpected grace last night. Everyone around us at the show was ready to help with Harper. Everyone was so kind. Everyone was positive. From the woman into whose drink I accidentally put my hand, to the kind couple sitting next me in Row V who thoughtfully asked me if I would like to share their weed. It was truly awesome to see even a small portion of Los Angeles come together in celebration and love. If you were at the Orpheum on Thursday, November 8, 2007, you showed me grace and I thank you.

Harper's Halloween (pt. 1)

2007-11-04T17:10:00.000-08:00

This year we decided to have a fairly traditional Halloween. We knew we would dress up Harper Jo and go trick or treating. But we also wanted to let her experience some of the other fun traditions. That meant a trip to the pumpkin patch followed by some pumpkin carving.

Harper Jo and best friend, Miranda.

Last year we went to a really amazing, massive pumpkin patch south of LA. This year was a little different. We were going with one of Harper's classmates, Miranda, and her family. We had to coordinate naptimes and everything. So simplicity was the keyword. As a result, we ended up going to Mr. Bones Pumpkin Patch right in the middle of West Hollywood. I knew about Mr. Bones because I used to work in WeHo and it was on my way home.

Harper (lost) in the hay maze.

What I didn't know was what a celebrity hang out Mr. Bones is. It seems this is where you go if you're famous and looking for pumpkins. In fact, Steven Webber stood right behind me line. And apparently Vanessa Williams was there as well. Since our trip, McCall has been showing me pictures from her tabloid mags of all the celebs at Mr. Bones. Everyone from Teri Hatcher to Harrison Ford got their pumpkins there.

You can't really tell, but everybody in the background is famous.

We ended up with a pretty big pumpkin, about 18 inches tall. Obviously, the next step was carving our monstrosity. We ventured over to Miranda's home. Her parents laid down a tarp in the middle of their living room and we all gathered our gourds together, drew different faces on them and began carving.

McCall was a wonder with the kitchen knife. Despite having the biggest pumpkin in the room, she sliced and diced her way through it like Jason Voorhees. I was so proud. My role was encouraging McCall, I told her if we were on the Amazing Race, this when I'd be telling her we were way ahead of the other teams. I also was in charge of collecting pumpkin seeds for baking later.

The kiddos had a wonderful time getting messy with all the pumpkin guts, and amazingly there were no accidents to anybody. I cooked up the pumpkin seeds in the oven and they've been a big hit around the house.

McCall's awesome handy work.

Harper's Halloween (pt. 2)

2007-11-04T16:24:00.000-08:00

Taking Harper out for Halloween was a clear illustration about how different our childhood experiences are. We may have grown up on the same planet, but it's a very different world.

I have some really vivid Halloween memories. My first clear one is when I was only three or four. I remember going as Snoopy, or maybe it was Casper. Either way, I had one of those grocery store costumes with the plastic mask that is held to your face with a thin rubber band and two staples.

This year we dressed Harper up like a little punk rock girl for daycare. We took a lot of time to put on little tattoos and spike up her hair in a mohawk. Harper gets the benefit of our undivided attention, something that just wasn't possible for me (with two older brothers) to receive from my parents. But I'm not complaining. I didn't know the difference. And my childhood Halloweens were great.
After my family moved to Dallas, my elementary school would have Halloween parties each year. These later morphed into Fall Fun Festivals. I remember an early Halloween party when I was probably still in kindergarten or so. At the far end of the school, where the sixth grade classrooms were, the lights were dimmed, there was a small "haunted house" of sorts. And one class room featured a strobe light and Michael Jackson's Thriller video playing on a constant loop while the older kids danced. I couldn't wait to be in sixth grade! My brothers tried to take me through the haunted house. I got about four feet in, saw a teacher dressed up like a witch and wrested my arm free from my brother and ran out of there crying.

We picked up Harper after daycare and her hair was a bird's nest. It was terrible. We took her home and washed all the product out of it so we could get her ready for the main event. We were heading down to the Grove for their Halloween festivities.

Piggy Harper and Jason Daddy

Several stores were handing out candy to kids and there was a huge Pirates of the Carribean: At World's End DVD release event. We dressed her up in the cutest little pink piggie costume. She looked totally adorable.

Two little piggies

Piggy Harper and a mini Minnie Mouse

The Grove was a great option for us because we couldn't have gone trick or treating in our neighborhood. Most of the buildings around us are apartment complexes with secured entrances. And most of the residents living around us do not claim English as their mother tongue. Unfortunately, Harper will most likely never go trick or treating on her own. My parents used to let us go by ourselves and didn't think twice about it. I can't imagine sending Harper out into the night to go from door to door...ever. Even when she's in middle school, and all her friends are going together, I'll be very nervous. I'll probably just dress up as Leatherface and follow them from a distance. You know, to make them feel safe.

Cracker Snacker

2007-10-21T18:30:00.000-07:00

Most of us don’t ponder how to eat a pack of Ritz crackers. The process is fairly self-evident. But how did we acquire this knowledge? If you’ve never encountered Ritz crackers, or plastic packaging of any kind for that matter, how would you try to get them out? Oh yeah, and you’re 16 months old so you don’t know anything.

You may have guessed that these are not rhetorical questions. Yesterday, McCall was showing me some pictures she’d taken of Harper (for a posting to be determined at a later date), and Harper slipped away to our bedroom. Alright, she walked right past us on her way to our bedroom.

After we finished looking at the photos, McCall decided to track down Harper. About 20 seconds later, she called out to me.

“Kyle!”

When you’re married, you can communicate a lot simply in how you vocalize your spouse's name. In the same way that Eskimos have four million words for snow, my wife has about 40 recognized meanings for "Kyle".

Kyle. - I’m about to ask you for something I know you don’t want to do.

Kyle?? - Is that you or a serial killer?

Kyle!!! - Harper just pooped.

This one was a little more complex. The overall message was “Get in here quickly,” but there were heavy overtones of “I need your help,” with just a dash of “You’ve got to see this.”

A few steps short of our bedroom door, McCall had heard a distinctive crackling. The visual confirmed her mental image. Harper had the Ritz crackers on our bed.

Obviously this begs the question, “Why are there Ritz crackers by your bed?” Obviously, the answer is "None of your business."

In order to preserve the scene of the crime, McCall had not altered it in any way. Harper was chewing through the wrapping trying to eat the roll of crackers like an ear of corn. All around her lay a steadily mounting pile of Ritz crumbs.

Immediately, I took them from her and started snacking while I pondered my next move. I determined to get the dust buster and vacuum the bed. McCall stayed with Harper. When I returned to our boudoir, Black & Decker in hand, Harper was crawling around on our bed trying to gobble up the bigger pieces.

As soon as I powered up the 'buster (as I like to call it), Harper jumped down off the bed and ran away in fear. In fact, the only traces remaining of her were the slobber marks she left all over our bed sheet.

Harper's Tiny Tickle Dot

2007-10-18T12:28:00.000-07:00

Harper Jo is very attached to McCall. It has only been recently that she will allow me to comfort her instead of McCall. I guess we're all pretty attached to our mothers and especially in childhood I think we feel more connected to Mom. Some of this may come out of the "natural order" in which matriarchs are caregivers while patriarchs are lawgivers. It is only after much maturation that we realize the importance of the steadfast instruction of our fathers.

Harper loves her mommy very much. Almost as much as the original point of contact between them. That's right. I'm talking about her belly button. That physical mark we all bear that, to some degree, defines our human-ness. The one thing we all have in common, the one scar we all bear. Reminding us that we were brought forth through great difficulty, and pain, but also with great love, and joy.

For Harper, though, the it's become an obsession. She touches her own belly button constantly. She doesn't suck her thumb, so belly button pushing has become her default method of self soothing. It's also very important to her that others see her belly button. She loves pulling up her shirt and showing it to people.

She also loves to see and touch ours as well. If she ever sees my or McCall's belly button she wants to poke it. I even make sound effects whenever she pushes mine which always draws much delight and giggles.

It is to the point now where we have to consider her belly button when we dress her. Dresses and onesies are more difficult now because she may melt down if she can't get to her bebo. See, it's not enough for her to touch it through clothes, it has to be direct contact. We even cut the bottoms off some of her onesies so she could get to it.

From where did this obsession come? Tiny the Dog. Who is Tiny the Dog? That's a bit more complicated. Tiny the Dog is an interactive stuffed animal (complete with glowing belly button) that comes with an educational DVD. The DVD contains all kinds of scenes designed to help babies and toddlers learn about colors, shapes, and object permanence. During the video, the characters on screen talk and Tiny the Dog responds.

In the middle of the program, the characters all sing a song together. The lyrics are as follows:
Belly button, belly button/When you touch it great things happen.
It's my tiny tickle dot/Hee hee hee, that's the spot.

Harper is now convinced that touching her belly button will cause great things to happen. Which I guess is accurate to some degree. When she touches her belly button she stops crying so that IS great.

But sometimes I wonder about the long-term effects. Can she suffer from belly button chafing? Will this practice encourage early lint build up? Can she actually poke through into her belly?

All things considered, I guess it's not really a very big deal. It could be a lot worse. She could have a compulsive need to put her middle finger up her nose. That would be so bad.

Flashback

2007-10-11T21:27:00.001-07:00

Becoming a parent changes you so dramatically, so completely, and without warning. It's the ultimate guerrilla assault. It's like hearing that in two minutes your house will explode. And it's not that it happens around you. It happens to you, at you, and through you.

This is so true I think differently of people with kids now. We live in a neighborhood with a lot of crime. It's called Los Angeles. So there's kind of a natural level of "on guardedness" that everybody carries. Plus you never know when you might be walking down the street and Steven Spielberg sees you and decides to put you in his next picture and you become rich and famous and win an Oscar, and marry Brad Pitt. He's so dreamy!

But I digress...

A lot of dudes walk around looking all hard and stuff like they're all angry and don't mess with them. But if they have a kid with them, I know they don't mean it. They got too much to lose.

Harper Jo is 16 months old now so I have no personal memory of what she's experiencing. So with things like walking, talking, learning to eat, sort, stack, I'm watching her master these skills somewhat vicariously. I envision myself as a toddler learning in these same ways. I picture my parents chasing me like we do Harper. And I wonder if they chased me in as much frustration as I do Harper. I can't imagine they muttered much of what I do. I don't say "so and so", I say what "so and so" means.

But when she turns three I'm going to stop creating fabricated memories and start comparing actual memories. How is her fourth year similar or dissimilar to my own? I may write a disertation. No I won't. Because I can't even spell dissertation. Oh wait. I guess I can. That's pretty cool.

Anyway...

I think it's going to be kind of weird to compare my faded and photocopied facsimile recollections of really being five years old to my clear, original third-person impressions of virtually being five years old. But so far it's been really fun to see her begin to enjoy things that I enjoyed so much. She loves climbing, and exploring, and laughing. I pray that she never stops doing any of the three.

Mine!

2007-10-08T00:49:00.000-07:00

This has become one of Harper's favorite words. It is also an example of the only real drawback of daycare. Peer influence. Before daycare, Harper lived in a controlled environment. If I threw a napkin in the garbage from four feet away (or ten feet if I'm shooting a three pointer), and then I see Harper throw a toy similarly, I know why that's happening. Now she can pick up bad habits and I don't know from whom she's getting it. I just know it happened at daycare.

We've started to talk about daycare like it's this vortex we deliver our daughter to each morning and from which we retrieve her each afternoon. What happens at daycare stays at daycare. If Harper comes home in different shoes than she had on in the morning, there's no sense trying to understand. It happened at daycare (thunder crashes).

"Hey, Harper lost an earring, do you know where it is?"
"No idea. It happened at daycare." THUNDER!

"She wasn't wearing this t-shirt when I dropped her off."
"Forget it, McCall, it's daycare." THUNDER!

"Don't we have a girl?" THUNDER

So when Harper recently picked up the "mine" bug, it was senseless to try and identify a culprit. First off, what am I going to do? Confront the poor kid's parents?

"Hey, your kid's been teaching my kid stuff. Tell him to knock it off, Harper knows enough already!"

Besides, I'm horrified to think what Harper might be teaching the other kids. I cringe at the reverse confrontation.

"Um, your little girl showed my little girl how to climb up on top of, well, everything. The funeral will be this Thursday."

But honestly, the whole "mine" thing is a bit annoying, isn't it? Try to take anything away from Harper and she recoils guarding the item covetously while blaring, "Mine, mine, mine, mine..." I think the only reason she doesn't say anything else is because she can't say "precious" yet.

Mine!

Plus, she says it about everything. If she grabs my cell phone off the table, and I try to get it back from her...mine, mine, mine, mine. There goes mommy's shoe. Can I have that Harper? Mine, mine, mine, mine. It's not yours. It's actually mine. In fact, nothing is really yours, it's all ours. We just let you use it.

But I have to feel a level of sympathy for her. I get the feeling that she's coming to the realization that she doesn't really own anything and all the big people in her life do. Plus, if it's not adults, it's the other kids snatching things away from her all day. I think she's just desperate for a sense of ownership.

That's why I've started collecting a glass menagerie for Harper that she can play with anytime she wants. They'll be all hers. Because what better gift is there for a 16 month old than glass?

Stealth Daddy

2007-10-03T08:25:00.000-07:00

Harper urinates quite a bit during the night. If we leave her overnight in the diaper that we put her down in, she’ll be soaked by morning. Her pants will be wet, her sheets, her bed, animals, everything.

Obviously, the solution is changing her. So just before I go to bed each night, I change her diaper. If she wakes up again after that, I change her again.

The downside is that Harper does not easily go to sleep. If I wake her up while changing her, I’m in for 20-30 minutes of soothing. That’s why I’ve developed my superhero skills. Now I can deftly move Harper from her crib to her changing pad, nimbly change her diaper, and whisk her back in her crib without waking her up.

Spread the word…
Diapers have a new enemy...
Sleep has a new guardian...
I am Stealth Daddy!

Shoe Fetish

2007-10-01T16:13:00.000-07:00

Harper Jo loves shoes. I really think there's an inherited gene in women that carries a love of shoes (and therefore shoe shopping). McCall has absolutely scads of shoes. Some don't fit anymore, some are in the shop (seriously), and some are in boxes waiting to be worn for the first time. I lump everything into the category of "shoe" because really McCall loves boots. I'm a flip-flop guy married to a boot woman. My feet are all black and blue from being stepped on.

As usual I digress. Harper loves all shoes. She loves Mommy's shoes, she loves Daddy's shoes, and she loves her own shoes. She first fell in love with a pair of my flip-flops. Initially, she wouldn't try to put them on. She just loved walking around with them. Anytime I took them off, she was there like a heat seeking missile and then she would carry them someplace else. The more advanced Harper becomes, the more I understand what living with a kleptomaniac is like.

Now she tries to put on shoes. She's more successful with our shoes because they're so oversized. Of course whether or not she has them on the correct foot is of no consequence to her. Either way, she'll attempt to walk around in them with an expression on her face that reflects just how pleased as punch she is with herself.

This morning, while getting Harper dressed and ready for "school" (actually daycare, but we're trying to give her an early positive association with the word school), she grabbed a pair of her shoes with which she is particularly enamored, and sat down to put them on. She actually got her entire foot into the correct shoe! I was so proud. However, as soon as I went to fasten it's velcro strap the shoe came off in my hand. I have a feeling it may be a few sizes too big.

Still, that's quite an accomplishment. I'm not sure if the right shoe on the right foot was intentional or incidental. Either way, I think she did a pretty awesome job. After all, the reason I wear flip-flops is because laces were just too complicated.

Adventure Baby!

2007-09-19T21:31:00.000-07:00

Almost since birth we’ve been calling Harper “Adventure Baby”. She’s always loved being held upside down, thrown into pillows, flipped over, and doing somersaults. Now that she’s getting bigger and stronger, she enjoys climbing up on things. Anything. It doesn’t matter. If it’s taller than she is, she wants to climb it.

Harper is such a little dare devil. She has this insatiable need to be as high as possible. If she’s in a high chair, she wants to stand on it. If she’s sitting on a stool or chair, she wants to stand up on it. If she’s in a grocery cart, she wants to stand up in it. The seats on those things have those little pictures with a big line through it so you know your kid isn’t supposed to stand up. Harper can’t read those pictures.

I guess I have to take a lot of the blame. I was a climber when I was a kid. I loved climbing trees, rocks, mountains. I would climb up fences and get on houses. Shimmy up poles and get on top of my school. Then I would usually jump down.

Below is a quick clip to illustrate what I’m talking about. This is Harper Jo at her most daring. Testing the limits of her natural abilities, learning through experience the laws of physics.

My favorite part is the end when she throws the scooter aside like she's bored with it and runs away. It's almost to say, "I've conquered this, on to the next!"

Sweet Tooth

2007-09-16T17:26:00.000-07:00

I have to admit that I have a bit of a sweet tooth. I don't go crazy and eat gallons of ice cream or gobble family size packages of Peanut M&Ms, but every now and then (probably more often than I should) I indulge.

But I do have one weakness against which I am totally powerless. It is my Achilles heel, my kryptonite, my garlic and holy water. It is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

Surely, you can relate. There's that one item you pass in the grocery store, or at the movie theater; that one thing you see and think, "I probably shouldn't but..." and then you do.

It is difficult for me to describe how much I love Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. And I have to specify them by brand name, because other types of chocolate and peanut butter combinations in cup form just don't cut it.

How much do I love RPBCs? I have often wondered how long I could survive eating nothing but Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and 2% milk. On some level I wish this had occurred to me in college, because I was in much better shape to survive on candy for a while, and I think I could have probably parlayed it into a bet of some kind and made money off of it. One more regret I have to live with, I guess.

Harper hasn't had any RPBCs. She's not strong enough to pry them from daddy's hand yet. But we do give her little treats occasionally and she has keyed in on jelly beans. We have this little Easter bunny jelly bean dispenser. You push down on the bunny's right arm and his left arm swings back allowing a jelly bean to pop out of his side into his little Easter basket. When you let got, his left arm swings forward urging you to take the jelly bean like a pusher in a crack den!

The first one's always free

Nothing in the world excites Harper like getting a jelly bean. There's an anticipation on her face, a consternation if we take too long, and an exclamation of pure joy when she finally receives it. She will take itty, bitty bites to make it last. And as soon as she's done, she asks for another. "Mor? Mor? Mor?", echoes her hopeful query.

The great thing about toddlers is they have lousy memories. Do something once, and they'll forget it almost immediately. It takes lots of repetition for them to remember things. Unfortunately, we're getting to the point where Harper retains more from each successive experience. Even though we keep the bunny pusher hidden behind a photo, sometimes she remembers where she saw him last and will point to the picture.

My solution? I'm going to start stuffing that bunny with peas and broccoli. Harper will be in for a big surprise when her dealer starts giving her veggies instead of candy. My laughter that day will be voluminous, muffled only by dangerous levels of chocolate and peanut butter.

Master of the Universe

2007-09-12T13:21:00.000-07:00

Something occurred to me while we were in Cleveland visiting McCall's family. Harper was playing with a new toy that McCall's mom, Susan, had bought for our visit. Well, actually, calling it a "toy" is understating it a bit. I believe they actually call it an "exploration center". If you're a parent, you know what I'm talking about. These mega structures make the Ewok Village I had as a kid look like Lincoln Logs!

"Harper" loves her Exploration Center!

Anyway, Harper was playing and McCall, Susan, and I were all looking on. Since the activity center was made post 1990, it of course emits lots of sounds and plays songs in six languages. Harper triggered the alphabet song, or something and started to bob her head back and forth. To encourage her sense of rhythm and dance, we all started bobbing our heads and rocking back and forth. The funny thing was, we all started pretty much in unison.

Harper laughed delightedly and started to rock more enthusiastically in response. As soon as the song stopped, she played it again and we all bobbed and rocked together. It was then that the afore mentioned something occurred to me.

Harper must think she controls the world. If she wants us to rock back and forth all she has to do is play some music and we join in. If she wants to play chase, she simply gets up and walks away. As soon as she sees one of us coming after her, she starts running. To her we're just the huge automatons that serve her, clean her, and make her laugh. And I think a lot of babies probably feel this way.

However, the truth is, she doesn't control anything. The only reason I'm rocking to and fro, is because I know that doing so will cause her to do it even more and she's super cute when she's jamming out. I run after her because I don't want her to get run over and as soon as I catch her, I scoop her up and drop her back down where I want her to be, regardless of her will.

I know a little girl who's in for a very sad day when she realizes that she doesn't control squat! In fact, I believe that day, the very instant of that realization, will be quite significant. I believe it will mark the end of her infancy, and the beginning of the long, difficult road toward maturity. But for now, I'm happy to be her puppet. After all, she's usually only pulling on my heart strings.

Barnyard Baby

2007-09-05T21:22:00.000-07:00

Last week we flew home to Cleveland to visit McCall's family. Yes, you read correctly, I said we FLEW. For those of you who don't know, flying anywhere is a huge accomplishment for us. Not only were we going with the squirmiest baby on the block, but McCall has a horrible phobia of flying.

However, Kaiser Permanente hooked us up with some meds and McCall was, let's say, on a different plain on the plane. But before she was able to pass out, she had to deal with Harper while I wrangled luggage. And it wasn't until we were in the air that Harper finally went to sleep and McCall could relax. I have to tell you how proud I am of McCall, she was a real trooper and held it together. Way to go, babe!

While in Cleveland we stayed at McCall's mom's house which is called Critter Ridge Farm. It's just a house and a barn on about a half acre of land, but doesn't it sound cool? I've always loved properties with names: Camelot, Monticello, Southfork Ranch. We live in an apartment which I think automatically forfeits the right to name our home. Besides, if we were really honest, we'd have to call it something like Ant Springs, or Mount Toys, or Air Conditionless.

The Critter Ridge barn houses a variety of animals and McCall's mom, Susan, feeds and takes care of them every morning. She has two pigs, a goat, a sheep, a llama, and two alpacas. And those are just the barn animals. Inside the house is a cat, a horse dressed up as a dog called Charlie, and an African Grey named Einstein.

Harper made fast friends with Charlie and in the mornings went out with McCall and Susan to help with the animals. Here are some of Harper's animal exploits caught on film:

Harper Jo with Charlie

Harper with Peekaboo the cat

Susan and Harper prepare to feed Otis the goat

Harper and the animals size each other up

A kiss for Charlie

I love the following series of photographs. The sheep must have said something that Harper didn't like because she suddenly got very upset.

Here comes Charlie to the rescue!

Day Care of Hard Knocks

2007-08-31T14:07:00.000-07:00

Harper's day care follows what is called RIE philosophy. RIE stands for Resources for Infant Educators. However, it might as well be called RIP, because they don't interfere with your child unless they're about to kill themselves.

The philosophy basically boils down to the idea that if a child can get into a situation, they can get out of it. RIE also promotes letting kids work out issues on their own. It seems to me that it would be much simpler (and cheaper) to put all the kids in a room with a sheep dog and let them have at it.

All that being said, I should note that we absolutely LOVE our day care and adhere to RIE-esque parenting at home. We don't coddle Harper and we encourage her to stretch herself with new challenges. However, this "hands off" approach does result in a few more falls and scrapes than if we dressed her in one of those over padded sumo outfits that bigshot companies rent for happy hours or executive retreats.

So as a result, Harper consistently comes home with injury reports. Most of the time the injury reports simply detail some fall or scrape resulting in minor bumps and bruises. Although, it was an exciting moment when we read about her first bee sting. It's just a classic childhood rite of passage.

A couple weeks ago, however, Harper got an injury report that McCall thought was hilarious. I think the humor stems from the sheer journalistic simplicity of reporting only the facts. Regardless, it seems that Harper received a valuable lesson in the fine art of negotiating.

Click to enlarge.

It's Potty Time!

2007-08-21T14:53:00.000-07:00

Well, the time has come to train Harper Jo in the fine arts of human waste disposal. I believe this will yield benefits not only for our family but for the environment as well. Soon, instead of contributing to the ever growing land fills in the form of disposable diapers, we'll be contributing to southern California's water shortage in the form of three gallon flushes for half cup pee pees. On second thought, I guess either way the environment is screwed.

We got a fun book for Harper called "It's Potty Time" (I can't believe they stole my blog title for their book!), and we sit her on her little mini-toilet and show her the book. She's going to be a bathroom reader just like dear old dad.

It's a fantastic little publication that includes a built in speaker. When you push it, the speaker emits a flushing sound and a little girl laughs to let Harper know that using the toilet is a load of fun.

Now available for boys and girls of all races! (Must be white, black, or Latino)

This book got me thinking, though. I would probably read more if the books I bought had speakers. I just finished "The Ruins" by Scott Smith. It's about these 20-something vacationers in Mexico who get trapped in the jungle by a flesh eating plant. I'm wondering how much better this book could be if instead of having to imagine people screaming, I could push a button and hear them. Or instead of having to read all those words like a sucker (it's over 500 pages for crying out loud!) maybe I could hear the dialogue through the little speaker. Or it could simply act as mood music or sound effects. When you think about it, it's the perfect combination of paper and audio books.

But I digress. So a few days ago Harper actually sat and peed in her toilet for the first time. This is not to say that there haven't been some unsuccessful attempts in the past. Let's just say, it can be risky to let your baby run around without a diaper for too long. But she's starting to learn and that's very exciting because it means she'll soon be ready for bigger and bolder challenges. I think next I'm going to try and teach her to use the stove.

"Pot Luck" Dinner Night

2007-08-21T14:14:00.000-07:00

So Friday night was Pot Luck Dinner Night at Harper’s day care. I suppose I should put pot luck in quotations, because none of the parents brought any food and the day care just ordered pizza. Now I’m not complaining because I love pizza. It just seemed like it should be called “Pizza Night”, not “Pot Luck Dinner Night”.

It was also funny to see how varied the dress was for the occasion. I was in my standard shorts, t-shirt, baseball cap, flip-flops ensemble. Some parents looked like they dressed in evening casual wear (dresses for the ladies, slacks and button down shirts for the men). For me this would’ve meant jeans instead of shorts and no baseball cap. Then there was Harper’s teacher from the day care. She showed up in a gown with high heels wearing a light wrap. She may have been carrying a clutch as well. She was the first person I saw so I immediately felt totally underdressed. I think she must have been going to some sort of awards show after the party.

Harper’s day care is affiliated with an Episcopal church so we were eating in a banquet hall. The room was festive with a bubble blower, a slide, and something that I can only describe as a two year old’s roller coaster. It was this three-sectioned, double humped ramp with a little car that the kids would sit on (see image below). The car had a handle for them to cling to (you know, for safety). You roll your kid down the ramp and watch them cruise across the floor. It was almost like a soapbox derby.

Notice the step? Harper's day care doesn't have that. And yes, your toddler will go so fast she will be blurred!

Harper’s first run she decided that she didn’t need to hold on to the safety handle. We urged her to, and she kind of placed her hands on it as a token effort to make us happy. But as soon as the car started moving down the ramp, she flung her hands up in the air like on a real roller coaster. Some day, and I can’t wait for this moment, we’re going to ride Space Mountain, or Shockwave, or some crazy Batman ride together and we’ll be high fiving the whole way because neither of us will be hanging on to the safety handles (which are for sissies in the first place). Way to go, Harper!

And she wasn’t really even using her feet for stability either. I think she was trying to have the least amount of her body touching the car as possible. Anyway, the car got to the end of the ramp and Harper was probably going a good 5 mph. You know, really moving, and she was just screaming with delight in this spread eagle position almost as if the car was a totally secondary part of the ride; like she was trying to achieve flight.

I’m watching her and I’m getting so much joy from her excitement and then I see that she’s cruising full bore toward the far wall. It’s obvious that she’s not going to do anything to stop herself. I mean the only thing on her that’s even touching the car is her butt. So I go running after her to try and stop the car before she runs into the wall. And even as I’m running in my flip-flops, grabbing the car, and bringing her to a stop inches from impact, I’m so proud of her inside. Because none of those other kids even came close to hitting the wall!

A Day at the Beach

2007-08-14T17:40:00.000-07:00

We recently went out to Dockweiler Beach. Harper had only been out to the beach one other time and we weren't there very long. So was this was her first real time playing in the ocean. We discovered quickly that Harper hates the waves, but loves sand (and McCall loves her pink bikini).

She made some friends building a lagoon by digging out sand and letting the waves fill it in. Daddy had fun swimming in the Pacific and Mommy took pictures. Here are some highlights of Harper Jo and Daddy playing in the sand:

Harper in the sand

Dockweiler is located right next to LAX, so planes are flying low overhead the whole time. Harper loved to point them out (Harper's sense of direction is not great. The plane was directly over her head.)

Harper Jo and Daddy sharing a laugh

Mealtime Prayer

2007-08-08T16:37:00.000-07:00

We have been teaching Harper to pray before meals (which is why she can say "Amen", see below post). Partly because we want to instill in her a spirit of gratitude and partly because we enjoy being called child abusers by athiests. The other night, though, we forgot to say grace. But Harper stopped eating and put her hands together and waited. She was looking at us like, "Hello? Aren't you forgetting something?" It was extremely cute and heart warming.

The funny thing is how patient she will be while we pray, and as soon as we're done, she immediately gets very excited and points to her food. I imagine in her head it's all Charlie Brown grown up talk until "Amen." Then her brain goes, "LET'S EAT!"

Words Harper Can Say

2007-08-01T10:30:00.000-07:00

Harper is now 14 months old and is about to enter a period of time when her vocabulary will explode. So we wanted to gather a list of all the words she can say after one year, and if applicable how they actually sound coming out of her mouth.

Mama
Dada
No
Uh oh - said whenever she drops anything, sometimes ad infinitum.
Kitty cat - "kee ca" - we have three cats.
Belly Button - "beh-wi bu-un" - Harper is obsessed with her belly button. She is constantly touching it and likes to touch ours as well. We've been forced to cut the bottoms off some onesies because she can't sleep without access to it.
Up
Down - "dow" - I suppose it's possible she's actually just expressing an early interest in stock trading.
Amen - "a-me"
Wow - she seems very impressed by flagpoles and tall trees.
Bye bye - "bu-bye" - Usually accompanied by a wave of her hand, and usually after the intended recipient of this gesture is long gone.

Thankfully she can't identify any television characters like Elmo or Dora yet. I think this is more because we never watch those shows. Instead she watches a lot of the Simpsons.

A Day at the Aquarium

2007-07-09T16:39:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago we went to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach. This is a pretty nice aquarium with lots of displays and much to see. Currently they have a big exhibit on the history of surfing which includes a life size model of the Silver Surfer as a part of a tie-in with the Fantastic Four. Pretty sweet.

Sure, he can save the planet, but can he save the movie franchise?

Harper had a terrific time looking at all the fish. She was so enamored with the first tank she saw that we had to pry her away and explain that there were other things to see.

"You mean there's more?"

She especially liked the touching pools where you can touch various fish and stingrays. My favorite part was the Q&A session with one of the aquarium employees who was "pretty sure" that stingrays are either hatched from eggs or live birthed. One of the two. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's one of those too, sweetheart.

Harper loving the Touching Pools

They also a have a small aviary which houses several lorikeets. Harper had fun watching the birds fly all around her. They are very friendly and will even land on you.

It really was a fun day. The whole family had a good time. And I think we may even have a little surfer girl on our hands.

Shortly after I marked her height, we were asked to leave.

Harper Jo: Origins

2007-07-02T13:06:00.000-07:00

Most people don't know this, but Harper Jo actually comes from Tatooine. Here she is basking in the dual sunlight of her home planet:

We won her in a bet from Watto. As it turns out, the joke's on us, Harper's midi-chlorian count is basically nonexistent. That Watto is a real sleemo.

Ride'em Cowgirl!

2007-06-19T14:48:00.000-07:00

Here are some pics of Harper enjoying her new rocking horse, a gift from Great-Gram and -Gramp for her first birthday.

In the following pictures note how the old school springs have been replaced by Soloflex style rubber straps. This is so little kids don't get pinched in the spring coils. While Harper is at daycare I bust these out and do curls. Pretty soon I'm gonna be ripped!

Rehab is for Quitters II

2007-06-13T15:41:00.000-07:00

Things may be going from bad to worse with Harper. A bottle of wine here and there is one thing. Every woman loves wine. But when she starts emptying forties, that's when I get concerned.

Here are two pictures from the grocery store I caught on my cell phone:

Look at the excitement on her face. She grabbed that Mickey's like it was Christmas Day and the card said "Harper".

Now this is just sad. Not even strong enough to twist off the cap, she's trying to gnaw it off. The one upside was that after she got it open, she remembered to pour some out for her homies. That's my girl!

Birthday Bash

2007-06-05T15:18:00.000-07:00

We recently celebrated Harper's first birthday with a big party and it was a smashing success. I have to admit that prior to the big day, I was very nervous and a bit skeptical that we'd be able to pull together everything McCall had planned. There were a lot of elements and it felt like the final task on the Apprentice!

The first major job we undertook was converting the dead wasteland that existed between our building and our neighbor's into a fun family side yard. Here are before and after images:

Before

After

In addition, we had three kiddie sized pools out front, sidewalk chalk, a baby swing, several play areas and a mini petting zoo. The petting zoo featured four ducklings, two bunnies, a baby pig, and a goat.

Here are some pictures of our front yard in the midst of all the birthday commotion:

Kiddie Pool

This bully wouldn't let anybody else near the pool.

Petting Zoo

It's hard to tell, but there really are animals in there.

General Frivolity

You could've cut the fun with a knife!

One of the highlights of the day was our good friend Eric Bryant performing Harper's baby dedication. A baby dedication is basically our public declaration as parents that we will do our best to raise Harper with the understanding that she belongs to God, not to us. We will attempt to love her in the same unconditional way that God loves us.

Big thanks to Eric!

It really seemed like everybody had a great time and we were so thankful for all our friends and family who joined us. Thanks for making Harper's first the best birthday she's ever had.

Stranger Danger

2007-05-24T10:37:00.000-07:00

Every new parent gets to enjoy the experience of discovering the wonderful world of children's music. It requires a very unique sacrifice to empty the CD changer in your car and reload it with such titles as Silly Songs, Sleepy Baby, and my favorite, Waterfall Sounds. I blame that one for increased pit stops on road trips.

But it seems like these songs exist in some sort of utopian vacuum where there is no crime and everybody plays nice and shares. I keep hearing songs with messages like, "Say 'Hi' to everyone you meet", or "Let's make new friends everyday", or "Santa wears a dirty trench coat".

Unless they have candy!

Now Harper's not nearly old enough to explore the world on her own yet, but eventually we'll have to try to teach her about strangers and not trusting everyone who smiles at her. A task made infinitely more difficult by the fact that her favorite song right now is, "Trust Everyone Who Smiles at You".

Plus we have to balance instilling a healthy sense of caution versus misanthropy. Currently, Harper is very gregarious and loves to meet new people. She has almost no stranger anxiety. That's actually something we really like about her. We want her to be able to connect with people quickly and foster friendships easily. But we also want her to know that every boy is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Bad!!! Unless they're gay.

So I guess for now, we'll just have to keep an eye out and continue to play her favorite CDs. I just got a new one. It's called, Strangers are Your Future Friends.

Rehab is for Quitters

2007-05-08T15:02:00.000-07:00

This is my new favorite picture of Harper Jo. In fact, it's now my desktop background. The beauty of it is not just in the circumstance (that she's reaching into a cooler for a bottle of wine) but in the timing. A split second before or after and we would've missed that perfect, dazed look: eyebrows raised, eyelids drooping ever so slightly. That "I'm really drunk but it's a holiday so I better keep drinking" face. In college, my friend Tyler wore that face so much, I think it's probably in the yearbook.

But somehow, it's her expressionless mouth that clinches it. There's not even the slightest hint of a smile. Just a pure debauched haze. That's what pulls the whole image together for me.

In her face, I see the following statement: "Huh? Oh, yeah. No, I'm okay. Just getting another bottle of hootch."

Sesame Asylum

2007-04-27T16:34:00.000-07:00

Generally speaking, I watch a lot of really bad television. Don't get me wrong, I also watch a lot of great TV. McCall and I love 24, Lost and Heroes. But we do watch quite a bit of VH1's Celebreality lineup. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you are a healthy well adjusted citizen. If you do, you should be ashamed of yourself (although Surreal Life Fame Games was SO good).

Anyway, now we have to TiVo shows that Harper can watch. If she watched the shows we watch, she'd think that torture, gunfire, and super powers were part of daily life. She'd also think "bleeping bleep" are the most common words in the English language. So now all kinds of crazy shows are popping up on TiVo that range from the fun and tolerable (Johnny and the Sprites), to the PC indoctrinating (Happily Ever After: Stories for Every Child).

However, it's hard to beat the old standards, and Sesame Street definitely fits into this category. But, as I was watching it the other day with Harper, I realized something a bit disturbing. Sesame Street is full of crazies and alternative lifestyles. Below are the list of offending characters on the show:

1) Big Bird:

A Beautiful Mind? I don't think so!
Okay, lets start with the kingpin. Big Bird is one giant, yellow paranoid schizophrenic. He has visual and auditory hallucinations that take the form of a woolly mammoth named Aloysius Snuffleupagus (aka Mr. Snuffleupagus or Snuffy). Big Bird exhibits all the classic signs of PS; he is delusional in his belief that Snuffy is real, and carries on conversations that only he can hear. Nobody besides Jack saw Tyler Durden and nobody besides Big Bird sees Mr. Snuffleupagus, draw your own conclusion.

2) Cookie Monster:

Not Pictured: About a million trillion other cookies he's eaten.
Cookie Monster is an addict. His addiction takes the form of an eating disorder focused on cookies. Cookie Monster needs serious help and I believe he should start going to Overeaters Anonymous meetings and get a sponsor. During the episode that I saw, he had an enormous cookie, at least four feet in diameter, which he ate in less than one minute. He tried to contain himself. He started by only taking one bite. But his addiction wouldn't allow him to stop. Pretty soon it was all crumbs dropping out of his mouth. I really think it's wrong of the Children's Television Workshop and PBS to exploit his weakness for their own profit.

3) Count Von Count:

The Count was later found dead from hypothermia.
Otherwise known simply as the Count, this poor soul clearly suffers from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He has an irrational need to count any and everything in sight. He is most affected by repetition of sounds (e.g. clock chimes) and a need to sort items (such as snowflakes) into groupings of successive integers. What may be most disturbing about his illness is the heightened level of mania he displays while acting out. The Count laughs uncontrollably between each item he counts. These empty guffaws obviously mask a great deal of emotional pain and distress.

4) Bert and Ernie:

Gay or Not Gay?
These may be the most controversial of the Sesame Street characters. Are they gay? I don't think so. At least not Bert. Any gay man with half a brain would get that unibrow waxed post haste. Plus neither has any fashion sense and their hair styles can best be described as Troll. And while they share a bedroom, they sleep in separate beds. That's not very gay. They aren't homosexual, they aren't even metrosexual. They are just a couple of buddies too broke to get a two-bedroom apartment. All that being said, there's definitely something odd about Ernie's obsession with his rubber ducky. I can't quite call it a psychological disorder, but it's not normal.

Caption Contest

2007-01-18T09:35:00.000-08:00

Here are some pics from Harper's last photo shoot. Leave your own ideas for captions in the comments area.

1)Pink cowboy hats. The next big rage!

2)Shut up! Seriously? Memoirs of a Geisha is out on DVD?

3)Eat your heart out, Anne Geddes.

4)Who me? I didn't do it.

5)Um, you're going to need a lot more than this.

6)This is my favorite part of my belly, right here.

7)BUSTED!

Sleep, Thy Name Is Enemy

2007-01-04T10:00:00.000-08:00

Harper hates to sleep. I could pretty much stop there and you'd get the basic point of this entry. In fact, if someone says to you, "Tell me about Kyle's new post", and you totally space the content, don't worry, all you need is "Harper hates to sleep". But to leave it at that would be kind of like saying George Washington Crossing the Delaware by Emanuel Leutze is a good painting.

I know some of you are questioning my choice of metaphor. "Washington Crossing the Delaware???", you think as you conjure up an image of the painting; most likely remembered from a school text book in which it was shown at maybe six inches by two inches. Well, in case you forgot it, here it is below gloriously displayed at six inches by two inches. Enjoy.

Washington applied his "laissez-faire" attitude to all aspects of life.

I've had the pleasure of seeing this painting in person at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. I was absolutely stunned when I saw it. I was just walking down a hall looking from one painting to the next and suddenly I was before this huge canvas. I couldn't believe it was the same painting from history class. The actual image is twenty-one feet long by twelve feet high! That's tall enough for Washington to have been painted life size (though I don't think he is). The detail is amazing and there's so much going on in the background that you just can't see at a reduced size. See, the painting has layers, and my initial statement has layers. Just as there is so much more to Leutze's masterpiece than old George standing in a boat, there is so much depth to Harper's hatred of sleep.

Harper has always struggled when we try to put her down. Nap or bedtime, she fights against her physical need to sleep. We try to keep our routine standard. Whenever it's time for Harper to sleep, one of us will take her to her room, put on a CD of lullabies or nature sounds, rock her in the glider and hold her as she drifts towards slumber. At least that's the theory.

First of all, you can't just hold her. We recently quit swaddling her so now we have to deal with flailing arms and kicking legs. She loves to swing her arms around or reach up and grab your face. She'll just see if she can get a big handful of throat, lips, eyes. If she can't, she'll try to grasp at arms, nipples, hair. Anything within her reach will be pinched, pulled or clawed. But not in a violent, thrashing way. It's much more like a compulsive instinct. Her hands will not stop (I mean ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT STOP!!!!), until she's been asleep for ten minutes. That's right, she doesn't settle down and then go to sleep. Hell, she doesn't even settle down when she goes to sleep. She settles down ten minutes after she's already asleep!

Sometimes I'll try to stroke my hand across her forehead and down over her eyes so she'll close them. Usually she senses that this is an effort to get her to go to sleep. Her immediate response is to burst out in heaving sobs. She will also generally be very squirmy. Every now and then I'll just let her do what she wants to do. I figure she needs to get comfortable, then she'll settle down and go right to bed. Nope.

First she'll arch her back and turn over so she's on her stomach. Then she'll push away from my chest and look at me (usually attempting to grab my face) or at the wall behind me. We have these little barnyard animals on the walls so Harper can learn that dogs are blue with plaid patches sewn on them for spots. We're also teaching her that any animal will have the sound it makes appear near them. I think she's really confused that our cats aren't followed around by little bubbles that say "Meow".

After she's done facing me, she'll turn towards the door of her room. I think she's probably looking for McCall, hoping that she'll come take her into the living room where all her toys are. I also suspect that when McCall is trying to put her down she hopes the same from me. Then she'll twist over and end up on her back in my arms the same way she started. If I let her she would continue this routine ad infinitum growing more frantic and upset, but never getting any closer to sleep.

So what's the solution? Well, if letting her do what she wants is ineffective, perhaps gently but firmly restraining her would work. Yeah, about as well as Bush's plan in Iraq. Which is to say, that so far restraining Harper has led to the deaths of 3,000 US soldiers. And I'm no closer to victory, again, just like Bush. Sorry about that, let me just put this soap box away.

So right now, we don't really have a solution. The past two days Harper hasn't taken an afternoon nap. We've tried but after an hour of trying to soothe a baby to sleep and getting nowhere you have to figure it's just not happening. Then again after 3,000 troop deaths you'd figure the President would come to the same conclusion. Okay, that's it. For real, I'm chopping up the soap box now and I'm building a little fire. It's just, he makes it so easy!

And then there's night. Oh man, I haven't even touched on nighttime. Harper is good for about five straight hours of sleep. From 7:30pm to 12:30am. From there it's anything goes. She may stir every hour for the rest of the night. She may need another bottle and then sleep four more hours. She might need a diaper change and then take another hour and half to get back to sleep. And she may wake up anywhere between 5:00am and 6:30am and she's ready to go for the day.

My life is clouded, and hazy. I'm in a constant state of sleep deprivation. McCall is completely exhausted. When we wake up we're tired, all day we're tired, we eat dinner tired, we sleep tired. How can you sleep tired? I mean, just look at that sentence. It doesn't make sense. And yet, I'm living it.

Two things before I go. One, I'm really not exaggerating for comic effect here. This is my actual existence and right now, it sucks. Really badly. And two, there's probably someone out there with triplets who all have colic and have never slept ever and they're six years old and you're starting to fear them because sometimes you wake up and they're standing over you with knives in their hands and you're probably thinking, "This guy doesn't know how easy he's got it", and you may be considering posting a comment or emailing me or something. Well save it. I don't care about your situation. Go get your own blog or better yet, get a time machine, go back in time pre-babies and get a vasectomy because I don't need to live in a world with homicidal, insomniac triplets, okay!

Solids

2006-10-19T18:17:00.000-07:00

There are so many things we take for granted as adults that I see Harper struggling
with. For instance, I can easily roll from my back to my front and vice versa. I can sit up by myself and even look around without losing my balance and falling flat on my face. I can stand without assistance, I can walk, and when I'm tired I can put myself to bed and go to sleep without crying. But watching Harper, perhaps what impresses me most about me is that I can feed myself.

We have recently started Harper on solids. First, it was rice cereal, then we introduced peas, sweet potatoes, squash and carrots. Now we're giving her oatmeal, bananas, and apples. But you shouldn't imagine these delicacies as actually solid in any way. Harper still doesn't even have any teeth (another way in which I'm supremely superior to her). Everything is this kind of mushy, almost-liquid. It's basically the consistency of mashed potatoes. The bottom line: it's baby food. But she seems to love it (or most of it anyway).

The problem is she wants to try to feed herself. I know that in her still developing brain (mine is rather nicely developed, thank you very much) she thinks that she can do it. However, put to the test, she fails miserably. To start, she doesn't have enough motor control of her extremities to scoop anything and lift it to her mouth. Hell, it wasn't all that long ago that she was knocking herself in the forehead with her rattle. Big deal, right? She was aiming for her mouth. There's something hilariously pathetic about watching a baby concentrate so hard to do something so simple. She would watch the rattle as it neared her mouth bringing it steadily closer. And then for some reason at the last second, BONK! Forehead.

In addition, she doesn't have the sense to maintain a grip on anything long enough to feed herself. From the moment she picks something up it's a countdown until she drops it. And there are times when it seems like her hands are actually fighting each other over which gets to hold whatever item she's trying to manipulate. The left will snap at a teether and pry it free from the right. The right will greedily grab it back and attempt to grasp it tightly while the left redoubles its efforts culminating in a furious battle of...drop. 30 seconds! Way to go, Harper. A new record! Oh, and FYI - I can hold an object as long as necessary.

There have been times when I've tested her to see if she might actually be able to feed herself yet. Not with the solids, because there's no way I'm cleaning up that mess. She'd get about one pea in her mouth and the rest would be in every other conceivable place within a six foot radius. No, what I'll do is set her bottle on the tray of her high chair, sit back, and observe. You see, on some level Harper is my own private anthropology experiment. I love to just watch her quietly as she tries to do simple things (usually failing miserably) that I can do with little or no effort at all.

So with the bottle set, I watch. The other night she grabbed it and actually got the nipple into her mouth. The problem was she had the bottle pointed straight up. Then she dropped it. After I placed it back on her tray she was able to gather it up again, but this time she had the bottom of the bottle and tried to put it in her mouth. I thought to myself, "That bottle might was well be on Jupiter, for all the milk you're going to get out of it." Then I took it from her and promptly finished it off. Hey, I'm not about to let good boob milk go to waste.

The biggest pain when it comes to the transition to solids is simply the mess involved. Every night, when Harper is done eating she needs a full bath. Every night! That's probably only happened to me like four or five times in my whole adult life. But after dinner Harper's face looks like some crazy piece of abstract art. Or like a palsied clown putting on makeup with his off hand. Or Mel Gibson in Braveheart. Except instead of Scottish War Paint Blue, it's Gerber's Gooey Carrots Orange.

During mealtime, I usually hold Harper's arms down while McCall feeds her. Yes, I have to physically hold her arms down or she'll try to grab the spoon, the cup, the plate or whatever. McCall told me she wished we had a baby seat with electric chair-style restraints to hold her arms down and her head back. That got me thinking. Maybe they have a mini electric chair. I mean, how else do you execute midgets? We could get one and just remove all the stuff that makes you die. The more I think about it, the better that idea sounds. I think I'll go check Craig's List for "miniature electric chairs." They got to have it, I mean, they have everything else.

There're Grandparents and Then There're Great-Grandparents

2006-09-23T09:06:00.000-07:00

Not long after Harper was born we undertook a very challenging trip to Cleveland. Due to a couple of different factors we chose to take a train. No wait, we took an Amtrak. I want to make the distinction because Amtrak is in a class by itself. But please don’t mistake that statement for a compliment.

Riding the Amtrak from Los Angeles to Cleveland is no joke. It’s about 56 hours including a four-hour layover in Chicago. Harper was three weeks old, McCall was still in serious pain from her C-section, and I spent my first Father’s Day staring out the window as New Mexico turned into Colorado which itself turned into Kansas. You may wonder what would spur such insanity in brand new parents. What was so important that we would attempt such an ambitious trip after less than a month of child rearing experience? The question isn’t “What?” but “Who?”

Gram and Gramp with a "yawning" Harper

We took the trip so that Harper could meet her great-grandparents, Gram and Gramp Sanders. Or rather so they could meet her. It wasn’t really an option for them to come to LA and since I was on paternity leave, we figured we’d strike while the iron was hot. My parents visited us shortly before we planned the trip and encouraged us to go even if the thought was a little nuts, even if we didn’t really have the money. My mom told us of how they had gone into debt to take my two older brothers and me to the East coast when we were young to meet my dad’s parents. She emphasized how important that trip was for them, how they never regretted it even as they had to overcome the financial burden afterwards. That trip still retains very important memories for me. Primarily because it was the only time I met my grandfather.

It was with the same attitude of purposeful sacrifice that we watched the country slowly lumber by. The money wasn’t important; in 30 years we won’t even know what it cost. The discomfort and pain wasn’t important; in 40 years we won’t even remember what hurt. The meeting was important, the togetherness. In 50 years we’ll still remember when Harper met her great-grandparents. And when they were introduced to the fourth generation of their lineage. What an amazing privilege! I pray that we will be so blessed.

Gram and Gramp are amazing people. They are brilliant and funny, considerate and generous. I love being around them. They are truly inspiring not only in their longevity, but in how they still so obviously love and care for each other after almost 70 years of marriage. I pray that we will be so blessed.

During our rehearsal dinner, I remember looking over at the Sanders family table and seeing them all gathered together. As a man, I imagined what it must be like for Gramp to sit there and look across at generation after generation. A living heritage that he and his beautiful wife begat. I pray that we will be so blessed.

I feel just like my parents did about their trip. I have no regrets. It was so important, not just to us, but to Gram and Gramp as well. They wanted so badly to meet Harper and we made it happen. Even if Harper never has the opportunity to see them again, even if she never remembers the trip, we’ll have the pictures to show her. She can see how her great-grandparents held her, cradled her, and gently rocked her. She can see the love in their eyes and understand for herself why the trip was so important.

Gramp and Harper

Today is Gramp’s 90th birthday. And I dedicate this entry to him on such a significant day. Gramp, thank you for being such an amazing father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. Thank you for giving me such a spectacular wife in your granddaughter. Thank you for seeing us off on our honeymoon, for chatting by the grill, and for dinner at “your” table at the yacht club. But perhaps most importantly, thank you for providing the line that joins together with my own to help complete the mosaic of our now unified family. You are truly a great, grand father.

Sewing Machines Whirring

2006-09-14T20:02:00.000-07:00

I’m losing control of my home. I guess that’s not accurate because it implies that at some point in time I actually had control of my home. And that’s just silly. But I am beginning to feel a bit overrun. And really the feeling has little to do with Harper and the ridiculous influx of baby junk that has invaded our apartment like a vagabond tribe of brightly colored, noise making squatters. It’s because of McCall’s new “business partners”.

See, last week McCall got the idea to start a bib making business. I don’t want to reveal too much because I know the top bib makers in the country are reading this blog and they would steal the idea. Lousy, thieving jerks. But basically it involves three women, a sewing machine and a bunch of fabric, which on it’s own sounds like it could be a bad sitcom. Or it could be a smash hit on the WB…oh wait.

Anyway, so now when I get home from work each day there’s usually two more females in the house than I’m used to. I’m sure any single guys reading this are thinking, "Sweet!” Meanwhile all the married men are thinking, “Yikes!” Because married men know that more women in your home is never a good thing. You have to be careful how you look at and talk to them. The “I was just reading her t-shirt” excuse can only be used so many times. Plus, the trademark Lawrence Charm can easily be mistaken for flirting and has the unfortunate side effect of making the ladies swoon. I can’t tell you how many times I walk away from a gaggle of women only to hear the familiar refrain of “He’s so dreamy!” Of course, I do tend to start conversations about Brad Pitt before walking away from gaggles of women, but I don’t think there’s any connection.

But there are really two major downsides to the additional estrogen. One, is I’m totally outnumbered when it comes to the TV. You might imagine my wife and her friends all gathered in a spare bedroom working away while I rule the television roost. But the reality is that they’ve set up shop in our dining room, which is connected to the living room. And neither of McCall’s friends are lesbians so they have zero interest in sports. And even if they were, they’d probably only want to watch the LPGA and WNBA. So here it is, Monday night, and instead of football, I get stuck with reruns of 7th Heaven. I sure hope Della Reese can save the day…oh wait.

But I have to say that the single biggest adjustment is the bathroom situation. Long ago, my father instilled in me the joy of toilet reading. The bathroom is one of the only places I can go to get a bit of privacy and I like to read my sports magazines on the john. Rick Reilly’s editorials in Sports Illustrated are the perfect bathroom readers. Just the right length and always a good read.

And although we have two bathrooms, I never use the guest bathroom. Meanwhile, our bathroom is connected to the office and when I got home today, I found McCall on her laptop, one of her friends on my laptop and a pressing urge to read suddenly becoming an embarrassing situation in the making. I mean, what I am I supposed to do? Drop off the kids at the pool while McCall and her friend sit ten feet away? The doors in our apartment aren’t exactly made of steel. So I did what any grown man should do in a similar situation. I waited until a more opportune time.

I know you may be thinking this is not a pleasant topic. Well, I don’t care! This is my everyday life. This is what it’s like to be Harper’s dad: sewing machines whirring, TV watching usurping, and bathroom going delaying. And at the end of the week what’s my reward? I got to watch the Cowboys lose to the Jacksonville Jaguars. Oh well, at least my fantasy team won…oh wait.

#1 Mommy!

2006-08-20T14:16:00.000-07:00

Everybody asks me the same question: Are you getting any sleep? The answer is yes. I'm getting plenty of sleep. The reason is because McCall is the best mother and wife in the world. She definitely takes the brunt of the blow when it comes to losing sleep. And it's not because I'm unwilling or incapable of helping. She's just faster at responding and doesn't wake me up for assistance very much. But she's not a great mom simply because I sleep undisturbed most nights.

McCall is a bookworm. But in a very funny way. She actually does not enjoy reading very much. She certainly isn't looking for any book of the month clubs to join or anything. But when a topic is very important to her (e.g. pregnancy or baby's first year), she'll buy as many books as she can find and read them all (or at least parts of them all). She'll go online and read any article she comes across. She'll sign up for newsletters and email announcements. She is the most informed mother I know. When we were in our Bradley Method classes (if you don't know what Bradley is, just pretend I wrote Lamaze) she knew as much as our instructor did, and sometimes I think she knew more. When we went to the hospital she had more current information than the attending resident. She impressed the Lactation Nurse with ingenuity in trying to help Harper figure the correct way to latch onto her breast.

Right now McCall is battling a pretty severe bout of post partum depression. In addition, she has some sort of ligament damage in her wrist which forces her to wear a splint. It also means she's in great pain anytime she picks up Harper, something she only has to do about a million times a day. She had to take off her wedding rings because her fingers are still too swollen. And on top of it all, she may be getting a flare up of very rare immunity disorder she has called Behcet's Syndrome, which basically causes her body to attack its own mucus membranes. Not very pleasant. Yet through it all, she seems to have endless energy to invest in our baby girl.

McCall is extremely smart too and figured out how to procure a ton of very valuable coupons for diapers, wipes, formulas, you name it. I normally wouldn't describe her as the most frugal person I know. The first time I ever visited her apartment she offered me a slice of her $45 pizza. That's right, she bought a single large pizza for $45. I believe the toppings were gold, oil, and the cure for cancer. But as we are really starting to feel the financial pinch that accompanies a newborn, she has been very active in seeking out bargains.

However, her unending love and devotion also carry some subtle side affects. I can see in her the beginnings of Overprotective Mom. This is the mom who makes their kid wear floatees in the bathtub or a helmet on a trampoline. Me? I'm at the other end of the spectrum. I told McCall that child proofing our home meant putting a mattress at the bottom of the stairs. The other day I accidentally bonked Harper's head against an open door while carrying her back to her room for a diaper change. These things happen. We definitely try to minimize any pain that Harper may experience, but sooner or later everybody hurts. That's why R.E.M. wrote that song.

McCall came rushing back asking if I'd hurt one of her soft spots. Then Harper spit up a bit. Something she does about as often as McCall picks her up. (Though, I don't want to imply a correlation. It's simply a matter of ratio, you understand.) McCall asked if we should take her to the hospital, "Nausea is one of the classic symptoms of a concussion!" I told you she knows EVERYthing. As if I didn't feel bad enough already, now my wife thinks I concussed our daughter and crushed her little fontinels.

Or at church on Sunday, we put Harper in the nursery for the first time. McCall hoped to enjoy the service without having to deal with a fussy baby or a diaper change. When you drop off your kid, they give you a number. Then if your kid falls down and starts bleeding uncontrollably or something, they flash the number on the large projection screen above the stage. We were assigned number 237. About halfway through the service, 227 appeared on the screen. McCall turned to me frantically, "What number do we have?" I showed her our laminated card with 237 on it. "What if it's a typo? Should I go get Harper?" She was halfway out of her seat before I was able to stop her and reassure her that they meant 227 not 237. That's why it said 227 not 237.

But even her mother hen instincts are merely the manifestations of her unconditional love. And that's why there's two of us; to balance each other. Last week Harper was standing on my lap looking into my eyes and I thought about how amazing and beautiful she was. I knew that God had given her to us. That of all possible combinations of chromosomes, He had decided Harper was the right one. And not just that she's the right one for us. But we're the right ones for her. Nobody else could raise her. And while I sometimes even make me nervous, I really believe that McCall is the perfect Mommy for Harper.

Working Girl

2006-08-10T13:11:00.000-07:00

Harper's first run-in with the paparazzi. Thankfully, her playmate, Jackson, was able to hold her back.

I believe it is every parent's right to live vicariously through their children. To encourage them toward their own unfulfilled dreams and desires. If it weren't for such hard driving parents as Earl Woods, Emmanuel Agassi, and Christopher Culkin we would've never known such amazing talents as Tiger, Andre or Macaulay. Thus, it is my turn to reflect on my life, consider what might have been and force it on little Harper Jo.
Ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper I dreamed of one thing: to be a movie star. I think I can pinpoint the time to somewhere around the first grade that I decided it was my calling. Two films in particular heavily influenced my passion for being in front of the camera. The Steven Spielberg classic, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the only slightly less noteworthy Neverending Story.
My dad took my brothers and I to see Raiders of the Lost Ark when it came out in 1981. I was four years old and as the story goes, although it may be more family legend than true, my mother was out of town and was none too pleased that my father had taken us to such a violent movie (let's not forget the climax of the film when the Heavenly Host descend on the evil Nazis and unleash the fury of the Lord in ways that include spontaneous combustion and melting). But for years I imagined myself outracing massive boulders, shooting bad guys, and flying around the world, my travels represented by red lines marked on faded maps.
Only three years later I entered the world of Fantasia and watched Atreyu and Falcor battle the Morque (that scary wolf creature that runs 100 mph unless it's about to catch Atreyu). I nearly wept when Artax sank in the Swamp of Sadness and there was something exciting about the twin Sphinxes and their stone bossoms. But there was also something very disturbing about the Nothing. It raised questions in my mind that eventually linked with thoughts about eternity since both were concepts I couldn't comprehend. To this day I don't like to consider these thoughts very much.
But now it's Harper's turn. After being told by everybody who's ever seen her how beautiful she is, we've decided to try and make some money off her. Actually, we just want to see if maybe she can contribute to her education. Eighteen years from now when she's paying for her own college tuition she won't remember having done the work. How sweet is that? I wish I had thousands of dollars in an account from work that I can't remember doing!
Now it's entirely possible that Harper won't book any jobs. And while I'm fine with that, McCall told her we'd sell her on eBay if she didn't start working within six months. I reassured her that we'd set the reserve price at, like, $20,000 or something. However, I really do think that she can get some print work or maybe a commercial (generally speaking, TV or film gigs are reserved for twins and triplets). But that leads me to a different conundrum. Do I really want her to be in that environment?
I've been on enough sets and in enough studios to know what goes on. It may be a shoot for Pampers, or a commercial for Johnson & Johnson, but it's still a business in the real world. And the advertising and entertainment industries are ones where the sexual harrassment laws only pack a punch as punchlines. I'm reminded of a scene in Fletch Lives where Fletch travels to Louisiana to take ownership of a decrepit antebellum estate he's inherited from a distant relative. Upon his arrival he finds an African-American servant living on the premises and asks if he's heard of the Emancipation Proclamation. Scratching his head, the servant replies, "It didn't get too much publicity around these parts."
So if she's actually able to fulfill my childhood dreams, do I let her? I suppose I'm putting the cart before the horse. Indeed, I may be putting a pile of lumber before a foal. But I still think we should consider some of these questions. When do we say enough? The first time I hear a dirty joke in her presence? The first time she tells me a dirty joke? The first time she tells me a dirty joke while asking for a cigarette? We have to know what our boundaries are for our daughter now. And ultimately that decision has to be made regardless of financial consequences and parental fantasies. Perhaps Kyle Lawrence will never be added to the list of overbearing fathers of celebrities. I guess I'll just have to settle for "World's Greatest Dad". I've always envied their grand prize coffee mug.